Prophecies, Secrets and Lies
by Shinysavage
Summary: AU. Book 1: Harry Potter has a pretty good life; a loving family, a great group of friends, he's powerful, and he's about to go to Hogwarts. Unfortunately, Dark Wizards keep trying to kill him, and not everyone around him is quite what they seem...
1. Prophecy

**Harry Potter and the Second War: Book 1.**

**Prophecies, Secrets and Lies**

**Disclaimer: **if you recognise it, I don't own it. I seriously doubt JKR has the time to sit around writing online stories about her characters (although at the time of writing I hear rumours that she's just finished Book 7, so you never know…) I own the plot, and the laptop I'm writing this on.

**Summary: **Right, this is an AU of the Harry Potter series, hopefully a bit different to others you may have read, although not so different that it's completely unrecognisable as Harry Potter except for the names. I'm a first time author, so PLEASE review and let me know what you think. Criticism is not only welcomed, but begged for.

And now, enjoy…

**Chapter 1: Prophecy**

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."_

The solemn tones of the liquid figure from the Pensieve died away. Dumbledore's office, which had seemed to glow with a silver light, returned to normal as the figure melted back into the memory. The people surrounding the desk sat, silently, while the phoenix in the corner of the office gave a melancholy trill.

"So… well, without wishing to sound rude, what, Albus? You think that this is a genuine prophecy? We've never heard of the woman who you say made it, Trelawney, did you say? How do we know that she isn't working for Voldemort? Even if she isn't that's no guarantee that what she says is true. You've always had your doubts about Divination, we all know that it's one of the reasons that you get on so well with Minerva!"

"Very true James and I agree that Sybil – soon to be Professor – Trelawney will be a far from magnificent Divination teacher. Just because she will be a bad teacher does not mean that she is entirely without talent however. You are an auror, it is only natural that the fact that you did not see this with your own eyes makes you suspicious, but I would hope that my word would be good enough for you."

James winced. "That wasn't what I meant Albus, you know that I trust you, but if you _are _right then this is our children you're talking about – "

"He's right Albus, I don't want to risk our sons lives based on something as vague as Divination. For Merlin's sake, telling us that our son might end up being attacked by You-Know-Who doesn't exactly fill us with confidence about the future!"

"You are right, of course Frank. Forgive me James; I know you weren't making a personal attack." The Headmaster sank back in his chair, wearier than any of them remembered seeing him, even during their school days, when the Marauder's had been provoking people in a particularly vicious fashion. "It has been…difficult these last few weeks. The deaths of the Prewett brothers alone… Well, I know that this is a significant change of direction for me, but I am prepared to swear by Merlin _and_ my magic that this is a genuine prophecy. Will that be good enough for you James?"

The four people on the opposite side of the desk shuffled uncomfortably. While it was true that Dumbledore had condemned the woman himself, the fact that he was prepared to swear such an oath did push them towards a re-evaluation of the evidence; Albus Dumbledore was not known for making such oaths lightly. Could there possibly be even a grain of truth in what appeared to be nothing more than the ramblings of a madwoman? As they debated this, Fawkes began to sing quietly.

The blonde woman on the left cracked a weak smile; "I really hope this isn't genuine Albus. I won't happy if you really have given away whether the baby's a girl or boy, you know I wanted it to be a surprise, but this woman seems pretty definite on the subject!"

Her husband rolled his eyes, as the other couple sitting with them laughed.

"Well, if Miss Trelawney has ruined the surprise I assure you that you can express your displeasure as vehemently as you wish Alice" Dumbledore said, his trademark twinkle returned to his eyes.

"Just so long as that's understood."

The Headmaster swept his eyes over the group in front of him.

"So, are we agreed that this _is _important and that I haven't, in fact, lost my mind completely?"

The two couples, the Potters and the Longbottoms, looked at each other.

"I don't see that we can take the risk really James. Plan for the worst and hope for the best. Even if this is rubbish, its not as if You-Know-Who has any reason to spare us, so our son will still be a target, prophecy or not." Lily's eyes had an intense gleam to them, which was only heightened by the soft glow coming from Fawke's feathers. To James, it was obvious that she was more worried than she was letting on.

"Ok Albus, I'll hand in my notice at the Ministry tomorrow. Can't let Lils go off on her on can I, might have the boy turned against Quidditch or something by the end of the war if I don't!" Lily just smirked, while the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes got, if it was actually possible, even brighter than they were accustomed to.

"Well, we certainly wouldn't want something like that to happen would we? Frank, Alice, what say you?"

"What, about James's obsession with Quidditch or the prophecy?"

"Either."

"Well, sadly I think James's problem is basically genetic, so there's not a lot we can do about it. As for the prophecy, like Lily said, we can't afford not to take it seriously. So, what do you suggest we do?"

"Well, you'll have to go into hiding, that's obvious. I know that Potter Manor is well warded James, but it's just too big. Your best option is the Fidelius Charm, and that has been known to weaken if stretched over too large an area. Frank, Alice, I think we can probably perform the charm satisfactorily over your house."

"Hold on a minute, the _what _charm? I don't remember covering that in O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s"

"You wouldn't, its an extremely complex charm Alice, and there aren't many people who could pull it off."

"I bet you can do it can't you Lily?"

"Well, one doesn't like to brag Alice –Hey!"

James had snorted at this. Lily looked at him, eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Merlin, don't look at me like that Lils, you remind me of Snape! And it's true, you know it is, when it comes to charms you can be a horrible show off!"

"Well, maybe on occasion… But in all seriousness Alice I have no idea if I can cast it, it's not something I've ever tried."

"Which is why I will be casting it for you."

"A house warded by Albus Dumbledore himself! We'll be the safest people in the country then."

"Your confidence in me is most appreciated Alice. Now, although I will be casting the charm, you will need to find someone to be your Secret-Keeper for each house. Whoever you chose will be the only person who can reveal the location of the house, and, so long as they keep the secret, Voldemort – I wish that you wouldn't flinch like that, there's just no sense in being afraid of a _name_ you know – will be unable to find you, even if he can be seen from your window."

"Very nice."

"Only you James Potter would describe one of the most incredible pieces of magic ever created as 'very nice'."

"I happen to value the art of understatement, it's a valuable skill for an auror."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. You don't get at me about when I get back after an arrest and just say that it didn't go well do you, you just accept that it was probably a lot worse than I'm saying."

"Fair point. Anyway, getting back to the topic at hand, any further advice for us Albus, or shall we just get on with recruiting a Secret-Keeper?"

"There is one more thing. Tell nobody about the prophecy. We have been taking too many hits lately. I believe that a member of the Order has gone over to Voldemort. I don't know who at this stage, but please be careful. There is a possibility that Voldemort may know the first stages of the prophecy, Aberforth was chasing someone out of the Hogshead during the interview, someone who had been upstairs, outside the bedrooms. It may just be some thief attempting a robbery, but it would be foolish to assume that this is the case, and Alastor would certainly have something to say about it."

"A traitor in the Order? Shit… I bet its Snape, he always was an evil minded little git, and its not as if he isn't in contact with Death Eaters is it? How can you be sure that he isn't just messing you around Albus?"

"Because I have been inside his head James, and that is my last word, and the last time I will have this discussion on the matter with you. Severus risks his life on a daily basis for our cause, the least you could do is treat him with a little respect."

"If you're waiting for that to happen Albus then You-Know-Who will have died of old age before you get the relationship you want."

"Thanks for sticking up for me dear."

"Anytime, darling, anytime."

"Huh. Anyway, we'd best go get Sirius."

"Why?"

"Well, who else do you suggest as our Secret-Keeper?" Lily rolled her eyes. She was well aware that Voldemort would start running a Muggle orphanage before James would even consider Sirius as a traitor. Which, although sometimes irritating, was at least a conclusion she could agree with, albeit grudgingly. Sirius was almost as fixated with the Light as Dumbledore himself, a product of his extremely Dark, and extremely unpleasant family, a family who had cast him out once they realised that his Light tendencies were not, as they assumed, normal teenage rebellion, but were genuinely what he believed.

"Yes, ok, Sirius it is. What about you guys, who are you going with?"

"Hmm… I think Caradoc would be a good bet, don't you Alice?"

"Absolutely, especially since the Secret-Keeper would have to go into hiding themselves wouldn't they? He could use the extra safety after that attack at Hogsmeade…"

"Excellent, well, I'll leave you to make the arrangements regarding the Secret-Keepers, and I will attend to warding the houses. Speaking of which, where are you able to stay James, Lily?"

"What about Godric's Hollow? It's the Potter holiday home, not too large, but big enough for all of us certainly."

"Excellent. Well, I shall see you all in a few days. Good luck, and stay safe."

The two couples walked out of the Headmaster's office, Lily and Alice debating how soon their respective children would be born, knowing that there could only be a few weeks left. James and Frank seemed to be quietly discussing tactics for possible battles; their Auror training left them suspicious of any 'foolproof' plan, and they knew that there was still a risk. As they climbed down the spiral staircase, Fawkes ceased his low song. Dumbledore looked over at him. "Thank you my friend. This was a difficult enough discussion with your influence, I shudder to think how they might have reacted had you not been able to calm them. I wonder… would Tom pick the Longbottoms or the Potters? The pure-blooded child of skilled aurors, or the half-blood? The Longbottoms would be the obvious choice, with his beliefs, but the Potter boy might be uncomfortably familiar to him… Ah well, hopefully we will never have to find out, what say you my friend?"

The phoenix trilled in agreement, fluttering over to Dumbledore's shoulder and leaning into him. The headmaster turned back towards the Pensieve and replayed the prophecy once again.

* * *

It was a bright August morning, a few weeks after the meeting in Dumbledore's office. The Longbottoms were safely concealed inside a Fidelius charm, under the care of Caradoc Dearborn, another member of the Order of the Phoenix. The placement of the spell on Godric's Hollow, the house that the village that Dumbledore was now walking through was named for, had been delayed by complications after Lily went into labour, the child already showing what Lily lovingly called "his father's bloody-minded streak". The newly christened Harry James Potter was waiting for his home to be warded. As Dumbledore walked up the path outside the house, he could hear James and Sirius playing with Harry, while Lily occasionally interjected with pleas for them to be careful with him.

"Good morning Lily, and may I say that you are looking particularly radiant today?"

"Oh! Merlin Albus, you startled me! You shouldn't sneak up on people like that. And thank you, that's very kind of you. Much nicer than either of this pair ever manages!"

"Hey Lillikins, we're just making sure that your head doesn't swell so much that you can't take care of Harry anymore!"

"You really don't care whether you eat a decent meal again do you Sirius?"

"NO!! Prongs, she's threatening me with starvation again! You've got to stop her, I can't be your Secret-Keeper if she starves me, and then You-Know-Who –"

"Speak up a bit mate, the neighbours are a bit deaf, they might not quite have worked out that we aren't estate agents by now, they need all the help they can get."

"Oh, yeah, sorry…"

"And Lils, don't threaten to starve him, you know that threats just get him excited, and then Harry won't go to sleep."

"Hmm. Fine, but call me Lillikins again and I'll hex you senseless Sirius Black!"

"Message received! Now, what precisely have we got to do Albus?"

"It's simple enough, for you and James at any rate. All you have to do is clasp hands while I chant the incantation, and then, once I have stopped, James will tell you the secret, in this case the location of Godric's Hollow, and voila!"

"Right, sounds like fun. Come on, we need to get this over and done with – if people can't see the house they can't see us take Harry flying –"

"Don't. You. Dare."

"Sorry Lily, just a joke you know…"

James and Sirius moved into the middle of the garden. After checking to make sure no-one was watching, Dumbledore cast a spell to make sure that no Muggles would be able to see what was happening. He then proceeded to chant in Latin, a long stream of words that none of them could quite make out. As he chanted, the house began to glow, at first a deep blue, but gradually lightening so a blue so pale it was almost white. As he finished chanting, the glow shrank into a little ball, which floated away from the house to hover over James's head. Dumbledore nodded to James, who leant towards Sirius and murmured "I, James Potter, do solemnly declare that the Potter family can be found in the house called Godric's Hollow, in the village of Godric's Hollow." As he spoke, the light flew from its position over his head and into Sirius, who staggered back under the force of the little ball of light. They both looked over at Dumbledore, who nodded, confirming that he could no longer see the house. Harry gurgled, and they all turned and looked at Lily. "I think that he liked the magic" she said, smiling beautifully. Dumbledore twinkled at her. "He is already entered on the Hogwarts register; he should grow up to be a powerful wizard. You should be pro –" He was cut off as Lily suddenly went from radiant to horrified. "Lily? What's wrong?"

"Oh Albus, I'm so sorry…"

"What…"

Then he looked down. "Ah. Accidental magic so early in life, most impressive." He waved his wand thoughtfully. "Hmm. I believe I might need Filius's help for this. No matter, I shall return to Hogwarts immediately. Beautiful as it is, the Wizengamot might have something to say about their leader sporting a blue beard!"

* * *

Several days later, and many miles away from the Potters, in the village of Little Hangleton, the Order spy approached the Dark Lord Voldemort. Even if you had never heard of him, or what he had done to Wizarding kind, he was an intimidating sight, hairless, with glowing red eyes, and skin – more like scales really – that seemed to have been melted, then cooled, making him look almost as dangerous as he actually was. When he smiled, which was rare, you could see that he had several small fangs in place of some of his teeth, the product of several unforgivably Dark rituals involving snakes. What was worse, if you were as sensitive to magic as the spy was, was the foul stench of the Dark magic which surrounded his body, as if he was corrupting the air simply by existing. As the spy approached, the figures of Evan Rosier and Bellatrix Lestrange became clear through the murk, waiting on their master and discussing the latest reports.

"Well, my faithful servant? What have you to report? What news of this prophecy?"

"My Lord, my humblest apologies, but I have been unable to find out any further details of the prophecy. My life in payment should you so desire Lord. If that be so, I would request that I be able to inform you of the likely candidates for the prophecy."

"Go on."

"Two families have recently gone into hiding, under the Fidelius Charm. The Potters and the Longbottoms. If I might dare to offer an opinion my Lord, the Longbottoms seem the more likely target; their child is at least a pureblood."

"Do not underestimate Mudbloods my servant. Just because they are inferior does not mean that they are completely without ability. I do have knowledge of half-bloods ability, I assure you… No… No, I think the Potters a more likely candidate. There is something about them that calls to me… You said that they were under the Fidelius Charm. Who are the Secret-Keepers, do you know?"

"I do indeed my Lord."

"Excellent. Then my superiority will be confirmed within a matter of days!"

"My Lord… Dumbledore is suspicious, not of me personally, but he is aware that there is a spy in the Order. The boy can do nothing to you yet, and I can still be of service to you. Might I humbly suggest a waiting period before you destroy the child, to ensure that suspicion does not fall on me?"

Lestrange sucked in her breath, and Rosier looked inquiringly at this breathtaking impertinence. The Dark Lord stared at his spy, before nodding thoughtfully.

"Yes… after all, destroying this boy is no guarantee that Dumbledore will give up. If anything he will oppose me even more forcefully. Yes, we will wait for a while. Your performance continues to please me my servant."

"My Lord is too gracious, I can hardly claim credit for the fact that my 'allies' are utter cretins, unable even to contemplate that I might be able to betray them."

Voldemort laughed softly. "Very true, very true. Now, unless you have anything further to report, return to your duties."

"Of course my Lord."

With that, the spy retreated, returning home for a shower. The Dark Lord might have admirable principles, but the spy never felt clean after a meeting. The Dark Lords magic was just too strong to be ignored. Quite apart from personal sensitivity, if the spy turned up at Headquarters reeking of Voldemort's magic, then Dumbledore would begin asking very pointed questions. If he didn't like the answers, then Moody could be replied upon to ask the questions in a slightly less vocal manner, although the questions would be even more pointed if he could get away with it. And that bastard Lupin would easily recognise the scent of Lestrange at the moment, it was nearly full moon. For all that it was a dangerous job though, the spy would never have given it up. There was too much enjoyment to be had in seeing the trusting glances from the Order members. The spy couldn't wait for the moment when the Dark Lord could afford to reveal his spy's identity, hopefully just before the Order was wiped from the face of the earth. Hopefully the spy could watch. It would be so amusing to watch, and participate in.

* * *

_One year and two months later, three days before Halloween, 1981_

Once again, the spy approached Lord Voldemort. This time, the spy was near breathless with excitement. Was the Dark Lord about to announce the attack on the Potter's? The spy mingled with the gathered Death Eaters, awaiting Voldemort's announcement.

"Welcome, my friends welcome. It is now over a year since my nemesis arrived on this earth – the only year that he will survive. The time of his death is upon his, the time of my ultimate victory. After the death of the Potter boy, no-one will be able to stand in our way, and we will sweep aside this pathetic opposition, and rid the country, then the globe of the scourge of Muggles and Mudbloods. We have achieved much, but we must remain dedicated; the Order cannot defeat us, but they have proved that they can be an annoyance, an annoyance that I will not tolerate. Each of you will have work to do on Halloween. I will go after the Potter's myself, now that we know where their Secret-Keeper is hiding. Bellatrix, I want you to take a group after the Longbottoms, its long past the time they should have paid for their defiance. First, I want all of you who don't have prior missions to just go out and cause havoc, anywhere you like, in Wizarding or Muggle areas. I want the Potters absolutely defenceless! Talk to the giants, the werewolves, the vampires – use any tactics you wish, I don't care, so long as its visible and terrifying."

A ripple of excitement went through the crowd. They had never had such a good opportunity to show off their inventiveness – duels were hardly the place for prolonged and sadistic torture, however much fun it was. As Voldemort stepped down from the stand, they began to disperse, forming small groups to discuss tactics. The spy slipped out; not being involved in the attacks on Halloween, there was little point staying to get jealous about the fun the others would be having, and the Dark Lord would be better served if the spy's identity was kept secret, even among the Death Eaters. It was dangerous enough that Rosier and Bellatrix knew, but at least they would never tell anyone, if their Lord had forbidden them to.

* * *

Three nights later, in the Auror's Offices at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, an alarm went off. The two senior Aurors on duty, Alastor Moody and Dorcas Meadowes, shared a resigned glance; it was, of course, too much to expect that the Death Eaters would have let Halloween go past without marking the occasion with their own particular brand of trick or treating. They both headed into the main office, where junior Aurors were frantically checking the monitoring spells, trying to find out which magical community was under attack.

"Well, spit it out lad, what are those scum up to this time?"

"No idea sir, there's nothing on the maps – they must be attacking –"

"Muggles. Damn it, anything from the Improper Use of Magic Office Shacklebolt?

"Already on it sir, should be through any second… yeah, there we go, Dark Mark cast in Oxford, looks like a small group, only three or four of 'em."

"Right, Shacklebolt, Bones, Washburn, get over there, bring 'em in. Cleanly now, I don't care what Crouch says, a dead Death Eater is a useless Death Eater, and satisfying though it may be, we need the information. Dorcas", this in a quieter tone "Get on the Floo to Headquarters; let them know that there's at least one attack tonight, probably more to follow."

"Will do. Are you staying here or shall I? You know Albus will want one of us there."

"I'll stick around here, see if I can't scare people into shifting a bit quicker. Tyler, Hunt, stop arsing around, this is a serious situation! You'd think those idiots would know I can see them wherever I am by now… Get going Dorcas, we'll be fine."

As Dorcas vanished through the Floo, another alarm went off… then a third, a fourth… Soon nearly every alarm in the office was going off.

"Bloody, hell… Sir, Giants in…

"Death Eaters attacking St. Mungo's!

"Death Eaters in Derby"

"Vampires and werewolves near Hogsmeade, they've killed three people already!"

As the reports washed over him, Moody stared at the map of England in confusion. There had _never _been so many attacks in one evening? Halloween might be a night focussed around magic, but this was still unusual. And the attacks never seemed to last long, more hit and run tactics before moving onto another location…

"Get more guards on the Ministry, it looks like they're acting as a distraction for the real target, whatever it is. And send people to Diagon Alley, might be looking to strike there. I'll let Crouch know" _And Dumbledore _he said to himself silently_. We need all the help we can get, and they might be looking to take Hogwarts as well._

* * *

As the Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix were struggling to combat Voldemort's followers, the Dark Lord himself was walking through Godric's Hollow. He hissed to himself in disgust at the clearly Muggle architecture. _I might be able to enjoy myself after dealing with the Potters. That would really scare them, the destruction of an entire village of Muggles as well as their little saviour. Oh I do hope that Dumbledore's paying attention; if he is he might come himself, and then, then I can defeat him as well. I won't have to hold back, not if my nemesis is dead, I can just obliterate him…_ He had reached what appeared to be the end of the road he was walking down. He looked to the left of the last house, and thought to himself _Godric's Hollow_. Another house seemed to grow out of the side of the Muggle house next to it, a few lights still on. Voldemort smiled, and raised his wand.

Inside the house, Lily was reading the Daily Prophet, shaking her head at the latest reports. "What's the matter Lils? Oh come on! Tornadoes win again!"

"Do you ever listen to anything but Quidditch dear? And nothings wrong really, just the usual rubbish from the Ministry. Crouch sent someone else off to Azkaban without a trial, and I'd be willing to bet that at least half of them are innocent."

"Yeah, well, at least they can control the Dementors. They might be miserable, but they're unlikely to get murdered while they're there, so at least they're safe – oh don't look at me like that, I don't like it anymore than you do, but you've got to look on the bright side haven't you?"

"Yes, I suppose, but still…" There was a cry from upstairs. "Oh, is it that time already? I'll go and feed him. Can you bring me a drink up please?"

"Sure thing"

As Lily reached the top of the stairs, the doorbell rang. She froze. The few people who knew where they were would surely have called before coming round, and nobody else should have been able to see the house. Could something have gone wrong with the spell? James walked into the hall, his wand in his hand. He went over to the door, casting a spell that would show who was on the other side. "Sirius? What's he doing here?" He opened the door, and the glamour that Voldemort had cast fell. "_Bombardia! _Lily, it's him, take Harry and run! _Incineratus!"_

As Lily ran towards Harry's room, she heard a high, cold voice call out "_Avada Kedavra!"_ and a thud as James's body hit the floor. This was closely followed by the crack of someone apparating up the stairs. She slammed the bedroom door shut, only to be knocked flat as it was blown in by Voldemort's curse. She knelt in front of Harry's crib as Voldemort entered the room. "Stand aside you foolish girl, and I might even spare your life."

"Go to hell, I'll never let you take Harry!" She raised her wand, conjuring a shower of razor sharp metal shards straight at Voldemort. He just laughed as they vanished centimetres from his face.

"Well, it was unlikely I'd have kept my word anyway. A good effort though, and from your husband. A pity you're a Mudblood. Spirit like that deserves an honourable death, but your blood… No, only one thing for it. _Crucio!"_

Lily screamed as pain wracked her body, and began to writhe on the floor. Voldemort held the curse on her for several seconds, before lifting it and watching as she gathered her breath, gasping and occasionally twitching. "So, care for another dose?"

"_Sectumsempra!"_ The curse did little more than cut Voldemort's cheek. He sneered at her. "Pathetic! You're not as strong as I thought you were. Pity. This could have been fun. Oh well, can't have everything I suppose. _Avada Kedavra!_ Now Harry," he said, stepping over the body, "Time to die. _Avada Kedavra!"._ The curse flew towards the screaming baby, and he laughed as it hit Harry on the forehead. Then… the curse just vanished, and the boy went silent. A look of confusion fell across Voldemort's face as Harry started to glow green, the green of the Killing Curse he had just been hit with. As Voldemort watched, the boy's forehead split, like a lightening bolt, and an ache developed behind his eyes. For a minute, it was as if he was seeing through the boy's scarily green eyes, and then the green glow surrounding Harry's body flew back out of him striking Voldemort full in the chest. It looked and sounded like the Killing Curse that he was so familiar with, but it clearly wasn't. He knew that the Killing Curse didn't hurt the victim, that they were dead too quickly for pain, but this, this pain was indescribable. Voldemort screamed as his body began to crumble, and his escaping magic struck the house, destroying parts of the walls. The roof began to fall around them as his spirit fled Godric's Hollow, astonished and scared at what had happened. There was a different glow coming from the bedroom now, a pale glow that seemed to be deflecting the debris from the area around the cot. A cold wind picked up as Harry began to cry again.

* * *

A/N Remember, please review! Also, I do read a lot of fan-fiction. I'm not aware of having stolen anything, but of you think I have, let me know in a review and I will check and then grovel/ignore you as appropriate. 


	2. Fallout

A/N So…been quite a while since I updated, sorry about that! Hope that you think its worth the wait. On the other hand, the long wait has allowed me to experience the joys of a review for my first chapter which is awesome! Consequentially, this chapter is dedicated to Shadows stalk during the deep of night. All that said, feel free to read on!

**Chapter 2: Consequences**

_Hogwarts_

Albus Dumbledore had been in his office, discussing school matters with Professor McGonagall when Dorcas Meadowes had come through the Floo. After contacting the Order members on duty that night, telling them to send someone to take a look at the attack in Oxford, he had gone back to day to day matters. A small group of Death Eaters against Aurors wasn't that much of a threat, especially if those Aurors happened to have Order backup. The third year Gryffindor who had somehow managed to transfigure his head into a lion's paw as a Halloween costume was not only urgent but, as a former Gryffindor himself, _embarrassing_. He had been confined to the Hospital Wing so that Madame Pomfrey could make sure that his body got enough oxygen, lion's paws not being all that well designed for breathing. However, when a small silver instrument in his cupboard started screaming and emitting pale smoke, he could almost _hear_ the blood rushing from his face, never mind feel it. "Albus? What's wrong?"

"That…that was linked to Godric's Hollow. Something's happened. Minerva, get hold of Remus, Peter and Sirius, especially Sirius. He is the Potter's Secret Keeper, he's our best chance of finding out what happened. I'll meet them at Godric's Hollow, Tom may still be there." With that, the Headmaster grabbed at Fawkes, who disappeared in a flash of fire. Minerva rushed to the Floo, throwing a pinch of powder into the flames, calling out "Remus Lupin" as they turned green.

"Professor McGonagall, what a pleasant surprise, won't you – "

"No time for that Remus. The sensor that Albus linked to Godric's Hollow had just gone off. There's been an attack." Remus' face went white.

"How is that possible? We saw Sirius just yesterday and he was fine. And James, Lily – Harry! Are they alright? Who was it-"

"I don't know Remus, but Albus has left already, he's going to meet you there."

"Right, Peter's here, we'll leave immediately. Can you try and get hold of Sirius?"

"I was already going to, now _go_!"

She threw another pinch of powder into the fire, calling out "Sirius Black!" There was no reply. After a moment, she stuck her own head through the fire. There were no signs of life, just an eerie silence. _Should I go through? He might be hurt… but what if he is a spy? The Black's always have been a Dark family, and Merlin knows he isn't always the most pleasant of people, as Severus would attest… Or he could be under the Imperious… What if he attacks? He's a better dueller than me, and more powerful to boot. I wouldn't stand a chance. And if he is innocent then he'll have been attacked, so he'll either be dead or under guard. Better to wait for reinforcements I suspect."_ With that, she withdrew her head from the fireplace, sending a Patronus message to Dumbledore to let him know.

* * *

When Dumbledore arrived at Godric's Hollow, the walls were still collapsing, a pale glow coming from the second floor. Even without this evidence, to someone as magically powerful as Dumbledore, it was obvious that a powerful wizard had been using the Dark Arts in the vicinity; the smell of it flooded his nostrils. He cursed under his breath; never mind the Dark Arts, devastation on this scale would be sure to attract attention even from the Muggles, blind as they could be sometimes. He hurriedly cast several spells to make sure that they would have all the privacy they needed as they went through the house. He had just finished when he heard the cracks of someone apparating. He whirled round, wand raised, only to Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew standing there, slack jawed at the sight of their friend's house. "Merlin Albus, what happened here? Are they still alive?"

"I don't know Peter, I've been busy ensuring that we won't be interrupted by the Muggle authorities, but I think that we're safe in saying that there are no Death Eaters there, at least, none who are in any condition to fight, given that nobody has attacked me yet. Come, let us enter."

The trio walked slowly towards the house, wands ready to defend themselves. As they approached the front door, which was only just hanging upright, Remus let at a low moan, and rushed forward as they spotted James's body lying against the wall. Peter watched in silence, before looking away. After a moment, he looked up at the sky, and frowned. "Dumbledore, are you sure that that this is due to Voldemort? Because there's no Dark Mark."

"I had spotted that Peter, yes. And yes, I'm sure that it was due to Voldemort, I can feel his magic. Remus!" The werewolf looked up at him, anguish twinned with anger in his eyes. "Be careful. There is no Dark Mark; there may be Death Eaters after all, although Voldemort is definitely not here." Remus growled, clearly hoping that there was someone around that he could hurt. Dumbledore and Peter moved into the house, and they swept the ground floor for intruders, before moving upstairs. Just as Dumbledore set foot on the stairs, a silvery wildcat came through the door, striking him in the back. He paused while he considered his Deputy's message, before nodding and continuing to climb. As they moved towards the bedroom, the stink of Dark Magic became even stronger, making Dumbledore light-headed, and Remus, sensitive to it due to his lycanthropy, began to pant, looking more and more wolf-like. They entered the bedroom, and saw Lily's body, wand lying on the floor next to her, half of her face covered in some kind of ash, with more ash on the floor next to her. Dumbledore could feel Dark Magic pouring off it. Scattered around the edges of the room were pieces of the roof, which had entirely collapsed. "What's happened here? The whole roof fell in, why's it just around the edges?" Dumbledore didn't answer, stepping over the pile in front of the door and approaching the crib. He gasped as his nervous gaze was met by a pair of bright green eyes. Remus and Peter, startled by the gasp, hurried over, and Harry gurgled in recognition. Remus snatched him out of the crib, clutching him tightly. "Oh thank Merlin, thank Merlin…" He slowly sank to the floor, nearly sobbing with relief. Peter knelt down, brushing back the slight fringe from Harry's forehead. "What the hell is that Albus? Looks like someone's tried to carve his head open!" Dumbledore reached out to touch the scar, before yanking his hand back, his face creasing in pain. "It's a curse scar, but different to any I've seen before. Where's Lily's wand?" He picked it up, whispering _"Prior Incantato!"_ Smoky images of a red slash, followed by shards of metal, followed by a simple cleaning charm. Dumbledore cancelled the spell. "Hmm, Lily used some form of Slashing Curse and a Conjuring Spell. Neither of those would have had that affect on Harry and unless I'm very much mistaken, the only magic that Voldemort used was the Killing Curse, possibly a Cruciatus as well. The Cruciatus wouldn't leave a mark, and the Killing Curse, well, Harry must not have been hit with it, clearly. I might have to use Legilimency on him I'm afraid."

"Albus! You can't, you could cause irreparable mental damage, he's only a baby for Merlin's sake!"

"I know Remus, but we need to know what happened. I know why Voldemort will have attacked, and it wasn't to get James and Lily. Harry was his real target, and I just can't understand why the only thing to show it is a scar." Dumbledore drew his wand, aiming it at Harry. "_Legilimens!"_ He felt a sharp tug behind his eyes as he was drawn into Harry's memories, rushing through countless images of Lily, James Sirius, Remus, Peter, Dumbledore himself, feeding, playing, countless mundane occurrences until, finally, he came to a memory that was tinged with black, indicating a bad memory, the only truly bad one that Harry had, given his young age. He let the memory wash over him _screaming, laughter, green light, a terrifying face looming over the crib, bright red eyes, mouth moving, saying something the one year old Harry couldn't understand yet, the wand, the green light again, then pain, such pain, the laughter again and then, confusion, fear, as green light spread out from Harry right back at the terrifying face, more screams, the face crumbling before his eyes, deafening noise of a magical explosion and a blinding white glow, debris zooming around him but never hitting him…_

Dumbledore wrenched himself out of Harry's head, gasping and staggering back, nearly falling over the crib behind him. Peter and Remus were looking at him in fear. "What happened Albus, is he going to be ok, -" "- was it Voldemort, Albus, what –"

"Please, give me a moment, what I saw was… intriguing… I will need to ponder this further. What I saw should not be possible, not at all… Remus, give Harry to me, I will take him to Hogwarts and get Poppy to check him over. You two, go to Sirius's flat and check up on him. We need to find out how Voldemort knew where to find the Potters, and Minerva received no reply when she Flooed him, and she didn't like to go through without backup"

"Oh Merlin, he'll need to go to St Mungo's at best! Unless… no, Albus, you can't think that… that he's a spy? Sirius would never do something like that Albus, he loved James like a brother!"

"I agree that Minerva's most likely jumping at shadows Remus, but you must admit that it's possible he was placed under the Imperious curse. Sirius is powerful, but there aren't many people who can stand up to an Unforgivable cast by Voldemort. He's likely dead, but if he's alive, get him to St Mungo's. I somehow doubt that Madame Pomfrey will be up to the task of healing him if he has been tortured, fine medi-witch though she is. I'll see you at Hogwarts when you've finished. Hurry."

* * *

The street in Chelsea was silent, the only activity a black cat prowling round the bins, looking for food. A couple of empty crisp packets and old newspapers were blowing about in the breeze. The cat looked up from its foraging, startled, before running off yowling, when two cracks sounded on the darkness. Remus and Peter stepped slowly out of the alleyway, wands drawn but concealed. They could see Sirius's flat at the end of the street, a light still in the window. "No Dark Mark" muttered Peter. "That would just have drawn our attention earlier though; it's hardly good enough to condemn him to Azkaban Pete." "Maybe, but it doesn't weigh my feelings towards him either. Come on…" They headed down the street, keeping to the shadows where possible. When they reached the building, Peter nudged the door gently. It fell off its hinges. "Forced entry. Definitely not good." "No. And I can smell blood. Someone's been badly injured at the very least." They carried on into the building, wands now raised, Statute of Secrecy be damned. Remus walked over to the ground floor flat. The door had been smashed in, and there was a powerful smell of blood coming from it. As he looked through the door, he could see the mangled body of the resident. "Merlin… I think it's safe to say that Death Eaters have been here Peter. This is definitely their handiwork. If I didn't have the nose that I do, I'd say that a werewolf had got loose." They headed up to the third floor, noting that the three other flats all showed signs of forced entry, and, in Remus's case, a distinctive smell of old blood. When they came to Sirius's flat, it was once again evident that there had been a struggle, but Remus couldn't smell anything, not even the things he would have expected to smell were he here under normal circumstances. He looked at Peter. "Imperturbable Charm? I'm not getting anything from it." "Assume it's a hostile situation then. Disillusionment Charms before we go in I think." They both tapped their wands to their heads, disappearing from view. The door swung gently as they moved through. They moved slowly into the main room, before moving to the bedroom. As they approached, they could hear laboured breathing. They went to the door, and Sirius was there, sprawled on the floor, covered in blood and occasionally twitching. There was a Death Eater lounging on the bed, wand in hand, even though it was patently obvious that Sirius was barely capable of breathing, let alone duelling him. He had a sneer on what was visible of his face behind the mask, as if he found Sirius contemptible. Peter aimed his wand, before muttering "_Reducto!" _The Death Eater's head exploded, and the body sagged against the wall. They lowered their Disillusionment Charms, and went to Sirius. Remus ran a few basic spells to check his condition, before swearing softly.

"We definitely need to get him to St. Mungo's Peter, he's lost a lot of blood, and I think he's been subjected to Cruciatus. Help me get him to the Floo." They gently lifted him, before Flooing to St. Mungo's.

* * *

Upon arriving at the gates of Hogwarts, Dumbledore had hurried to the Hospital Wing, ignoring the curious, and worried gazes of the students, unfamiliar with the view of the Headmaster near panic, with a baby in his arms. He burst through the doors, calling for Madame Pomfrey, who appeared from behind some curtains, partially obscuring the form of the Gryffindor with a lion's paw instead of a head. An apprehensive look fell across her face as she saw Harry in Dumbledore's arms. "Dumbledore? What's going on? Who's that, and what's wrong with him?"

"It's Harry Potter Poppy. James and Lily are dead."

Madame Pomfrey took a step back, gasping in shock and steadying herself against the curtain rail, before starting to babble "But… but they can't be! Oh Albus, what happened?"

"Voldemort. He attacked the house personally. Lily at least was tortured briefly before she died, but it has to be said, he killed them remarkably quickly… Anyway, he cast some sort of spell at Harry, but I'm not entirely sure what, and I'm sure that you can be a bit more discreet than St. Mungo's. Poppy? Poppy, please, I know you're shocked, but this is urgent! We can mourn later."

A look of incomprehension fluttered briefly across Madame Pomfrey's face as she stood there, just staring at the Headmaster. Eventually however, the fact that she had a patient penetrated, and her professional nature took over.

"Of course I can Albus, of course… He looks ok doesn't he, apart from that scar. Are you sure he's been cursed?"

"Yes, unfortunately. If I didn't know better I'd say it was the Killing Curse in fact."

Madame Pomfrey looked at the Headmaster sceptically. "How about you, are you sure you're alright? Nobody's slipped you a Babbling Beverage have they? Because that's one of the stupider things I've heard tonight Albus, and believe me, as school nurse I hear a lot of stupid things!"

"I know Poppy, and yes, that is my best theory at present. Let me know if you need any assistance, but there are things I need to consider…"

* * *

_screaming, laughter, green light, a terrifying face looming over the crib, bright red eyes, mouth moving, saying something the one year old Harry couldn't understand yet, the wand, the green light again, then pain, such pain, the laughter again and then, confusion, fear, as green light spread out from Harry right back at the terrifying face, more screams, the face crumbling before his eyes, deafening noise of a magical explosion and a blinding white glow, debris zooming around him but never hitting him…_

Dumbledore stepped away from the Pensieve, a thoughtful look on his face. A closer examination of Harry's memory had confirmed his suspicions; he had been struck with the Killing Curse, but apparently deflected it. Was this the _power the Dark Lord knows not_? He'd assumed that the prophecy meant that Harry or Neville would grow up to be powerful enough to vanquish his old pupil, but the memory seemed to show Voldemort disintegrating. He had conducted a brief study of the dust he had brought back from Godric's Hollow, and he had a suspicion that it was all that was left of the Dark Lord. But… it seemed so easy! And he couldn't explain it. Oh, there were many theories that suggested people born under prophecy weren't always bound by the normal rules of magic, but even the most extreme of these had never suggested this might affect the Killing Curse. Similarly, there were rumours that powerful wizards, such as the Founders, and Merlin, had been able to block spells that would now be considered unblockable, due to the general watering down of magical talent and power, but that ignored the fact that Dumbledore, widely considered the most powerful wizard currently alive, could not block the Killing Curse, and while Harry was clearly powerful, he was not as powerful as Dumbledore, or Voldemort, which combined with the fact that he was a baby put paid to that particular theory. But… Lily had died defending Harry's life. Ordinarily such a sacrifice, while admirable, would not have had such massive repercussions, but it was undeniable that a sacrifice made out of love had power, even after death. Perhaps, in conjunction with the prophecy and Harry's own magical power… But that wasn't a power was it? It was series of lucky coincidences, and luck was certainly something Voldemort was familiar with. That couldn't be what the prophecy referred to surely? Dumbledore couldn't see how the prophecy had been fulfilled, yet it seemed clear that it had been fulfilled – he'd watched Voldemort die! It was rare that he came across something he didn't understand, and while ordinarily he would relish the challenge, this worried him.

He was disturbed by the sound of the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to his office moving aside; he quickly hid the Penseive, only to sigh in relief when Remus Lupin came through the door. "Well? What happened to Sirius then? Was he there? Is he alright?"

"The Healers are fairly confident that he'll make a full recovery; they tortured the location out of him, only left him alive so they could come back if he was lying to them. They slaughtered the other people in the building as well, we need to clear out Sirius' stuff before the muggle authorities get there, don't want to cause a scene do we." Remus shook his head sadly. "He's distraught Albus, they had to sedate him in the end, he just wants to die. I can't believe we ever even speculated he might be a traitor, how could we!"

"War can often cloud our minds Remus, and it can all too often bring out the worst in us… Sirius was brought up around Dark magic, there is an inescapable taint around him in people's perceptions. The muggles have a saying – the leopard cannot change his spots. It is similar to Severus; they assume that he must be a Dark Wizard, merely because of his past… Still, I do not think Sirius a traitor. I will talk to him myself if necessary; there is no shame in breaking under Voldemort, and if what the Healers say is true he must have put up a mighty battle."

"That he did – his flat was a wreck! Albus… what about Harry?"

"Harry is astonishingly well, given his experiences. I've examined the memory, I know what happened; he survived the Killing Curse Remus, deflected it even. I'm not sure how yet, but he sent it back at Voldemort, destroying him."

"That's impossible! And… wait a minute, what do you mean destroyed? You don't mean…"

"The ash in Harry's room? That was all that remains of Voldemort's body. The war isn't over Remus, there are still Death Eaters out there, but I believe we can safely say that we have won!"

"Merlin… that would explain the commotion at St Mungo's then."

"Commotion? What commotion? Did something happen?"

Remus' face smiled for only the second time since he had received the Floo call from Professor McGonagall. "The long-term patients, they're beginning to make a recovery. People in comas for months were just waking up, the Healers couldn't explain it at all. It must be due to the magic draining from the spells!" Dumbledore cracked a smile. "Ah! Well, that is joyous indeed! Such a shame that James and Lily cannot be here to share in the celebrations…"

"Yes… Someone must have betrayed Sirius… Who though?" Dumbledore grimaced. "The popular theory in the Order will undoubtedly be Severus Snape, but I'd stake my life on his allegiance to the Light Remus… But I don't know who else it could be! Sirius and Severus are the two most likely candidates, but I know that neither would ever do such a thing!"

"Don't worry about it for now Albus, it's somewhat less pressing now wouldn't you say? I'm more concerned about what's going to happen to Harry… where's he going to go? Sirius won't be able to take him in for a while, I can't take him in, and Peter, well… Peter isn't exactly the parent type is he? Even before the war…"

"I know Remus, I know… but Peter did what he had to, and he was never brutal about it, you can say that much. He never sank to the level of the Death-Eaters. As for Harry, I was thinking about sending him to his Aunt and Uncle. Fine people I believe."

"They always seemed nice enough I suppose, but if you're going to send him away why not to a magical family? Merlin knows there'd be enough begging to take him in! He can't grow up away from the magical world Albus!"

"But they will not have blood protection. At the Dursley's I can raise wards based around the shared blood, keep Harry safe. Besides, I'm sure they would not object to your presence? They have met you all, they know that Sirius is Harry's godfather. I can see no problem there Remus."

"Well, when you put it like that… So long as we get to see him I guess we can live with it!"

* * *

Vernon and Petunia Dursley were relaxing in the front room of their house, Number 4, Privet Drive. To look at them, you wouldn't know that they had any connection to the magical world, although an unkind wizard might have commented on the possibility of centaur blood in Petunia's lineage, or possibly a powerful Engorgement Charm somewhere in Vernon's past. There was a reason for the obsessive normality. They didn't trust magic. It was, in their view, dangerous. Oh, Petunia loved her sister dearly, and was always delighted to see her, although since Lily had got married they had rather lost touch. But Lily had been a powerful witch, and the incidents of accidental magic, with no grown wizards or witches around to control them, had been rather traumatic for young Petunia, and had left her rather suspicious of anyone who could use magic, a suspicion not helped by the occasional exposure to James and his friends. James was unsuitable for Lily, too arrogant and boisterous, although admittedly pleasant enough, Sirius was just an immature fool in her opinion, and Remus and Peter were… dangerous, in some obscure way that she couldn't quite identify, although they were at least friendly. Vernon just found them weird, although pleasant enough in their own fashion. He just wished that Sirius would remember to put on decent clothing when they met, it was plain rude to expect them to explain to the neighbours about the funny man in a dress who popped by with his sister-in-law every once in a while. They were also aware of the more… traditional dangers of magic, and the idea of people who could and would kill you with a couple of words horrified them. For their part, Lily and James looked on the Dursleys as rather dull – Vernon sold drills for Merlin's sake, while Petunia just looked after their son, Dudley. However, today had been different. There had been people in town when Vernon went to work, strange people, dressed in familiar looking robes… He was sure that the name Potter had been mentioned, along with some other wizard or other, one with an extremely outlandish name. Well, if anything important had happened they would undoubtedly hear from them sooner or later. As Vernon thought this, as if by magic, there came a knock at the door. "Who the hells that? It's nearly 11, nobody decent outs at this hour surely! Wait here Petunia…" Whatever Vernon had been expecting, it certainly wasn't an old man in purple robes and a pointy hat, with a beard down to his waist. "Oh? Its only November, and the robes are the wrong colour for Santa Claus, but the beards good, very impressive. Come back at the appropriate time and you might even get some money. Unless of course, you're here about something else…"

"My name is Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and as you clearly suspected Mr Dursley, I am here on magical business, and I am afraid that it is not pleasant business. May I come in?"

"I suppose you'd better."

"Ah, good evening Mrs Dursley, my name is – "

"I know who you are, you were at Lily's wedding, you're the headmaster, Dumbledore. What can we do for you?"

"I'm afraid that I come bearing bad news Mrs Dursley, about Lily. I'm sorry but, well, she's dead. Murdered." There was a stunned silence, before Petunia suddenly dropped the cup she had been drinking from. "Dead? What do you mean murdered? Who by? When – oh my God…"

"Last night, at their house in Godric's Hollow. James is dead as well, although thankfully Harry is still alive. They were murdered by a Dark Wizard named Voldemort, I'm not sure whether Lily ever mentioned him to you…?"

"Yes, yes she…she mentioned him. He's like a Wizarding terrorist or something isn't he? You're fighting against him aren't you?"

"Well, if what we've found is accurate, there isn't actually anything left of him to fight, but we were fighting him yes. We aren't quite sure how, but he seems to have been destroyed after killing Lily and James. I'm very sorry for your loss Petunia, and I hesitate to impose upon you, but, well, its Harry. He needs somewhere to live, and you are his only living relatives."

"What! We couldn't possibly take care of Harry! We aren't magic headmaster, and neither is Dudley; how could we possibly take care of a magical child. Lily was bad enough, what will he be like, with two magical parents? It'd be chaos!"

"He is your nephew, your sister's son! I appreciate that his magic might seem daunting, but surely you can find it within you to take care of the lad!"

"It isn't a case of not wanting to, it's not being able to! How would we keep his magic a secret, Lily told me that they had problems cleaning up after him, and they were magical! How would we cope when he lost control of his magic, I saw what could happen when Lily had little accidents!"

"Oh, well, if that is your only concern, then I'm sure that Harry's godfather and his friends would be only to happy to help; I know that they'll want to see him anyway."

Petunia looked at her husband, fear mixing with grief and hope on her face. "Well dear? What do you think?"

"Well, if his magic won't be a problem, then I don't see why not. We've got the room, and it'll be good for Dudley to have someone around the house to play with. Besides, dangerous or not, he is our nephew."

"You're right dear. Yes, of course headmaster, we'll take him in."

"Thank you my dear Petunia. If I bring Harry here tomorrow, would that be reasonable? He is at Hogwarts at the moment, in the care of the school nurse, but don't worry, he's in excellent health. Once again, I am most sorry for your loss." With that, the elderly headmaster made his exit, as Petunia just sat on the couch, staring into space. "Petunia, darling?"

"She's dead Vernon. Dead. Just like that, and…and I didn't even get to say goodbye, didn't get to say anything, we hadn't spoken in months and now she's dead!"

A/N Hope you enjoyed it. The third chapter should (fingers crossed) be up sooner than this one was. Once again, reviews are welcome!


	3. The Good Life

A/N: Third chapter, here we go! Just so you know, if its in italics, its either personal thoughts or Parseltongue (and spells later on in the story). Hopefully it should be obvious from the context which is which.

**Chapter 3: The Good Life**

_Number 4, Privet Drive, Surrey – June 1991_

It was a Saturday morning in the middle of summer. In the back bedroom of Number 4, a 10 year old boy was asleep. He didn't cut a majestic figure, fairly small, with messy black hair that couldn't solely be blamed on bedhead. His face was quite well defined, and would one day be described as handsome. A simple pair of wireframe glasses lay on the bedside table. "Harry! Harry, time to get up!" The boy's eyes snapped open, revealing them to be a brilliant, piercing green. "Uh… 5 more minutes Aunt Petunia? Please?"

"No, get up now! It's Dudley's birthday breakfast!"

"Alright, I'm up, I'm up…" As Harry stumbled out of his room towards the bathroom, blearily rubbing his eyes, his cousin, Dudley tore out of his own bedroom, in a hurry to get downstairs. "Merlin Dud, how on Earth can you be so energetic so early? It's not natural I'm telling you, and this is a wizard talking to you, so you really should be worried…"

"Oh stop whinging, it is my birthday! Besides, if you didn't stay up past midnight reading about…what is it, transmogrification?"

"Transfiguration Dud, it's fascinating, really – "

"That's as maybe, but if you went to sleep earlier maybe you'd be more of a morning person."

"Dud, there isn't magic powerful enough to make me a morning person, trust me on this. Merlin himself would have given up the job, the Founders would have had breakdowns…"

"Yeah yeah, whatever, just get down there soon so I can open my presents!"

"Presents? Don't think you got any this year Dud – ooh, Aunt Petunia wouldn't like you doing that! I'll be down in a minute – save me some food!"

When Harry eventually managed to get downstairs, he arrived with four packages under his arm. A minor transformation had taken place. His hair, although still messy, had been swept back from his eyes, and a faint lightning bolt shaped scar had been revealed. Despite the fact that he was still in his pyjamas, he carried himself with an air that hinted at power. His uncle, aunt and cousin were sitting at the table, breakfast and a small pile of presents in the middle, waiting to be opened. Harry sat down, putting his packages on top of the pile. "So, who are all these for? Anybody'd think it was a special occasion or something…"

"Stop teasing your cousin Harry."

"Sorry Aunt Petunia, just having a bit of fun! Well come on Dud, get 'em open!" Dudley needed no more encouragement, ripping into the variety of games, videos, sweets and clothes. From Harry, he received a large box from Honeydukes, as well as a jumper that he'd had his eye on for a while. He had also received presents from Remus, Sirius and Peter, those being sweets and a book on magical history (that from Remus, naturally). Although it would be wrong to say that the trio were close friends of the Dursleys, they were certainly much more welcome than they had been in the past, largely due to Sirius calming down a great deal, although even Petunia regretted that his exuberance had been tortured out of him, rather than him just settling down. Still, the surviving Marauders were very close to Harry, especially Remus, and Vernon and Petunia had warmed to them after their aid with Harry's occasional 'accidents'. Dudley just thought they were cool, especially when they demonstrated magic.

"Have you both finished boys?"

"Yes Mum."

"Yes Aunt Petunia."

"Right. Go and get ready then; we're off out!" Both boys stood up to go and get ready. Aunt Petunia however called Harry back briefly. "We're going to be a long way from your guardians today Harry, are you sure you're going to be ok?"

"I'll be fine Aunt Petunia, I haven't even had a headache in months. Don't worry, nothings going to happen, I promise."

"Well, if you're sure…"

"Stop worrying the boy Petunia! He knows his own body don't you lad, you'll be fine won't you?"

"Absolutely Uncle, I wouldn't go if I wasn't, don't want to spoil Dudley's day!"

"Ok, ok, I'll shut up, just go and get ready."

* * *

Several hours later, the Dursley's and their nephew had arrived at the zoo, a favourite treat for both the boys, and Dudley had been wanting to go again for a while now, as the zoo had just come into possession of two new monkeys, which always amused him. Harry was looking forward to the day as well, although not quite as much as Dudley, given his knowledge of the wonders of magical creatures. _Wouldn't it be wonderful_, Harry thought, _if we were able to see unicorns and chimeras, or a Clabbert maybe, all in one place, and in utter safety as well. _Still, this was Dudley's treat, and he was enjoying it enormously, which was the main thing. Harry grinned as his cousin stood there, gawping at the monkey's antics. "Boys!"

"Yes Aunt Petunia?"

"Your Uncle and I are going for a coffee. Do you two want anything?"

"I'm ok thanks Aunt Petunia"

"Same here Mum, these monkeys are awesome!"

"Good to see you enjoying yourself dear. Come and meet us in the coffee shop when you're done; don't be too long!"

Petunia and Vernon wandered off, leaving Dudley and Harry still watching the monkeys. After a few minutes, Harry, getting increasingly bored, tapped his cousin on the shoulder. "Come on Dud, let's head over to the Reptile House"

"Geez, you and your snakes, what is it with you and them?"

"I dunno, they just appeal to me I guess"

"Alright, come on then." As Dudley turned to walk towards the Reptile House, he bumped into a young man walking past them. "Ahh, watch where you're going you bloody stupid kid! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"I was just –"

"God, you're all the same these days, thick, useless, you're probably on drugs aren't you, can't even dress properly…" Harry and Dudley looked at each other in bemusement; they were dressed rather well actually, Dudley in jeans and a t-shirt and Harry in a shirt, jeans and jacket. "Well? Aren't you going to apologise you insolent little brat?"

Harry looked at him coldly. "I think you'll find, _sir_, that you're the one who owes my cousin an apology. It was an accident, and you've done nothing but insult him; he's not stupid, he's not useless, he's not on drugs. I think it would be appropriate if you just apologised and left."

"Why you little –" The man stopped suddenly. There was a dangerous glint in those scarily green eyes that no eleven year old should have had. "Well, yeah, just see that it doesn't happen again alright? Fine." And with that the man hurried off. Harry stood there, watching him scurry away.

"Harry? You alright?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Come on, we've got snakes to see!" The two cousins walked on, Dudley watching Harry cautiously out of the corner of his eye. Accidents tended to happen when Harry got angry, accidents that frequently required several, oh, what were they called, Obliviators or something, to clean up after him. It would not be good if that happened today, especially since none of his magical guardians were around to help contain the fallout. Still, he seemed to be ok. They reached the Reptile House, and Harry wandered over to the largest tank, which held, amongst other things, a boa constrictor, which appeared to be asleep. Also standing at the tank was a younger boy, maybe seven, eight at the oldest, with his father. The boy's face was screwed up in anger. "Daddy! Daddy it's not moving Daddy, why's it not moving Daddy, make it move!" The father rolled his eyes, clearly accustomed to such behaviour, and gave a rap on the glass. This failed magnificently to wake the large snake, and he gave a further, louder rap. The snake slept on, but this time Harry shot them both a glare. The boy shrank into his father, who picked him up and walked off, muttering about "little hooligans" under his breath. Harry leant against the glass, his bad mood, which had been simmering under the surface since their encounter by the monkey enclosure, was rising once again. He groaned quietly. He could feel a headache coming on, right in the middle of his forehead, behind the scar. Dudley hurried up to him. "Harry? Harry, are you alright?"

"Getting a headache."

"A headache, or a _headache_?"

"The bad kind I think." Dudley swore quietly. "Right, you wait here ok, it's calmer here than outside, you should be alright, I'll go get Mum and Dad. You going to be ok?"

"I'll be fine Dud, honestly." Dudley shot him a dubious glance, but hurried off anyway. Harry watched him go, before turning back to the snakes. As he turned, he realised that the constrictor had woken up, or at least stopped pretending to be asleep. More than that, it was looking him right in the eye. Harry met its gaze. "You are a beautiful one aren't you?" he murmured to himself. _"Thanks friend. Always nice to meet a Speaker, especially one as polite as you."_ Harry stared at the snake in shock. He'd seen a lot of snakes, but none had spoken to him before. And what did it mean Speaker? "Umm… not a problem, really. Umm… You're speaking to me. That's…unusual."

"_Hey friend, I'm just a snake. I've never even seen the outside world. How should I know what's normal for you? All I know is, there's some things that every snake knows, and one of those is to recognise a Speaker when we see one."_

"Oh. Right. Ok…" As Harry pondered this information, the glass he was leaning against rippled slightly, and his eyes widened in shock. _"There something wrong with your mana friend?"_ As the snake hissed this, Harry's eyes flared white, and a pulse of magic left his body. He rocked forward slightly, before slowly turning around to see what had happened.

"Oh crap."

* * *

Meanwhile, Dudley had not been idle. He was hurrying towards the coffee shop, although he wasn't running – experience had taught him that running would attract too much unwelcome attention at a time like this. He walked through the door, quickly spotting his father. "Ah, Dudley, about time you showed up, your mother was getting worried. Where's Harry?"

"The Reptile House. He's got a headache, some people irritated him and… well, you know what he can get like." Vernon's face lost a little of its colour. Just as he was about to speak, Petunia returned from the toilet. "Vernon? What's wrong?"

"Harry's got a headache."

"What? Where is he?"

"The Reptile House, where else would he be?" Petunia and Vernon quickly gathered up their things, and followed Dudley hurriedly – but not running – to the Reptile House. As they drew closer, they began to hear screams. Petunia and Vernon looked at each other apprehensively. Dudley acquired a small grin. He knew Harry didn't like it much when he lost control, but there was always the possibility of something cool happening that they could laugh over later – he still remembered when Harry had turned Mrs MacArthur's hair neon blue in the middle of class.

* * *

Harry stared about him in shock. He seemed to have cast a subconscious Vanishing Charm; there wasn't a pane of glass left for a few yards around him. A slightly disturbing number of snakes were looking up at him. _"Freedom! Finally! My thanks to you Speaker, Mighty One."_ Harry turned round as the boa constrictor slithered past him. More of the snakes seemed to think this an excellent idea, and slithered quickly after it. Harry stood there for a couple more minutes, before reality came crashing back to him. He had to leave now; he'd never be able to explain _this!_ He slipped quietly out of the Reptile House, just as the screams started. Fortunately, everyone was concentrating on the escaped snakes, far too busy to notice a young boy. Even more fortunately, all the venomous snakes were in a different part of the Reptile House, and were still contained, their tanks having escaped Harry's loose magic. As he skulked away, he spotted his family standing in shock, staring at the chaos surrounding them. He quickly hurried over to them, muttering "Now might be a good time to go. Sorry about this." And with that, the Dursleys and Harry made a swift exit.

* * *

A/N Well, I was asked for shorter chapters, so here you go. Hope you enjoy it. Read and review please! 


	4. Letters and Shopping

A/N Yes, it's largely going to be a shopping chapter. Sorry, but it has to be done. A few new characters though, so look on the brightside.

**Chapter 4: Letters and Shopping**

_Number 4, Privet Drive, 31__st__ July 1991_

It was a month later. Specifically, the 31st of July, a special day for Harry for two reasons. First of all, and most obviously, it was his eleventh birthday. Secondly, his birthday should include his official letter of acceptance from Hogwarts, although the letter was really just a formality; it was simply unimaginable that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Saviour of Wizarding Life as We Know It and all round popular icon do anything other than go to Hogwarts. Still, it would be nice to have it in writing, particularly since it would allow him to get a wand. Theory was interesting (in some subjects), but he couldn't wait to try proper, controlled magic; his little accidents were usually to embarrassing for him to enjoy. As a result of the excitement, something miraculous had happened; Harry had got himself out of bed, relatively early in the morning. This was so rare that Petunia was overheard speculating about the possibility of an impostor under Polyjuice Potion, but he still got his delicious cooked breakfast. He also got presents, his favourite being the _Encyclopaedia of Transfiguration_ from Remus, although he also appreciated the latest edition of _Quidditch through the Ages _from Sirius and the new sabre from Peter. The Dursleys had given him numerous books that he had been longing for, and a fair amount of chocolate. Dudley had given him a brand new diary, with instructions to write down each time he used magic to comic effect, so that he had something to laugh over during the holidays. And finally, just as they were polishing off the sumptuous breakfast,an owl flew through the window, concealed from the Muggle neighbours by wards that Harry didn't quite understand.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

'_Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus'_

_Headmaster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore;_

_Order of Merlin 1__st__ Class, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot_

Dear Mr Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been awarded a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Term will begin on the 1st of September, transport from Platform 9¾, at King's Cross Station, London. Enclosed is a list of the books, equipment, and uniform that all first year students are required to bring with them at the start of the year; all equipment can be purchased at Diagon Alley at any point. Congratulations on your achievement; we look forward to seeing you at the start of term.

Yours sincerely,

_Minerva McGonagall; Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor_

Required Books for First Year Students:

_Standard Book of Spells, Grade One; Miranda Goshawk_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration; Emeric Switch_

_A History of Magic; Bathilda Bagshott_

_Magical Theory; Adalbert Waffling_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi; Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions; Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them; Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide To Self Protection; Quentin Trimble_

Required Equipment and Uniform

_One small pewter cauldron_

_Full set of first year potions ingredients_

_Wand_

_Telescope_

_Protective Herbology Gloves_

_Plain black school robes (ties and crests will be supplied once Sorted)_

_Students may also bring a familiar; a rat, a cat, or an owl. First years are reminded that they are not allowed their own brooms._

Harry read the letter with a huge grin on his face, while his family looked on with fond smiles. They all knew how long he'd been waiting for this moment.

"Harry?"

"Yes Uncle Vernon?"

"Go and get ready, your guardians are collecting you shortly, something about shopping I think they said, didn't sound very interesting to me, but I believe a wand was mentioned…"

Harry's grin somehow grew even bigger, and he practically bounced out of his chair before running up the stairs.

* * *

Several hours later, Harry, Sirius, Remus and Peter were standing outside the Leaky Cauldron, one of many portals into the various Wizarding settlements around the country. The Leaky Cauldron, along with several other locations around London, would take them into the 'capital' of Wizarding Britain, home of the Ministry of Magic, St. Mungo's Hospital and Gringotts, the Goblin run bank. They made a strange group; a young boy, dressed smartly if not extravagantly, with three older men, all forming, on close inspection, a protective group around Harry. Remus was lanky, with long sandy hair, flecked with grey, which covered up several ugly scars on his face and neck. He was dressed in robes that had once been impressive, but had been worn down through constant wear. Despite his shabby and haggard appearance, there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he was far more than he appeared. By contrast, Sirius was dress in the latest fashions, with long, carefully maintained black hair drawn back into a ponytail. His eyes however looked emptier than they should be, hinting at a great loss. Peter was dressed plainly, a short stocky man, with eyes that gave nothing away but were constantly moving, on the lookout for trouble, or simply, in this instance, making sure that there were no Muggles around to see the four of them vanish into thin air.

"All right, let's go shall we?"

"Excellent, let the shopping commence."

"You almost sounded sincere there Moony, well done. We might get you into some decent robes by the end of the year."

"My clothes are fine Padfoot, I just prefer to spend my money on worthwhile things, like food - "

"And books!"

"Well, of course Harry, one should never forget books. You remember books don't you Sirius, from school? Those things with paper in?"

"I think the only things Sirius remembers from school probably aren't fit for public consumption Remus."

"Well, there is always that consideration Pete, although I'd have thought he might remember at least something useful…"

"I've got lots of memories about the less respectable stuff you used to get up to Moony, never forget that!"

The group attracted curious stares as they moved through the Leaky Cauldron, still bunched as they were, in a protective arc around Harry, but engaging in playful banter all the while. Then again, the customers would attract curious glances themselves, a rag-bag mix of scruffy and shabbily dressed wizards and witches who seemed to be avoiding attention as much as possible, along with the more apparently respectable clientele, taking the opportunity for a convenient drink before apparating home. The foursome moved through to the back, where there was a high brick wall, well above head height, beyond which could be heard the sounds of Muggle London. Sirius moved over to tap a particular brick with his wand, and as he did so the wall split apart, revealing a curiously flat, almost two-dimensional street on the other side. Sirius stepped through, and taking a breath, Harry followed him, his passage accompanied by an irritating _stretching _feeling, as if his body was being reshaped, and then he was through, and the street they had stepped into sprung into a normal perspective. He turned to look at Sirius.

"I hate travelling through portals, I always worry that I'll get stuck!"

"And you always complain about how much you hate it. Would you rather stay in the Muggle world all your life? It'd be so dull! And a couple of seconds stretching is far better than those damn tubes your family insist on travelling on."

"I think you mean trains Sirius, and they may be slower but they're more comfortable…"

As Remus and Peter followed them through, they continued to move along the narrow alley the portal was linked to. What they saw when they reached the end would, had they been first time viewers, have left them speechless with awe. Reaching out in front of them was a town, a town that looked as if it had been cobbled together by time-travellers, bringing streets and buildings from all across time. Pride of place was held by the vast building which held the Ministry of Magic, part Gothic, part Medieval, part Edwardian in its design. Harry could feel the magic that had constructed it, and then redesigned it as required, like a warm breeze around him. It was magic at its most pure, a magic that simply could not be turned to any purpose other than that which it had been designed and cast for; magic that was, unfortunately, lost to current generations. Over the roofs of one of the small residential areas that scattered the town, he could see the top of the dome on the top of Gringotts, and he could hear the noise of dozens of children and their parents coming from the high-street as they ran round to get all their supplies for the upcoming year at Hogwarts. Harry felt a grin spread across his face; much as he loved his family, he always felt better about coming to the Magical quarters, as if a part of him was missing, or in pain whenever he was away. They set off towards the shopping area, stopping off at Gringotts to pick up some school funds. As Harry was waiting for Remus to sort out some difficulties regarding his own account, he heard a booming voice from behind them, making a valiant attempt to speak quietly and discreetly.

"I've come from Hogwarts, about the you-know-what in Vault 713." As the Goblin replied, managing to be discreet where the giant-like customer had failed miserably, Harry approached the man.

"Morning Hagrid! How's things?"

"Merlin Harry, didn't see you lot there! Just a bit of business for the Headmaster, you know. Hang about… Ain't it your birthday today? You'll be here for your Hogwarts stuff then? I'm taking a little girl round meself, some problem over at the Ministry, everyone's going to sort out Fudge's latest mess, so the Hogwarts staff got landed with the job."

"What's she like? Impressed with the extension?"

"Heh, you should of seen her jaw drop, she was astonished. Wanted to know all about how it was done, even Remus don't ask so many questions! She's just going round Flourish and Blotts and Madame Malkins with her parents while I'm here."

"Sir? The cart is ready for your trip to the vault." Hagrid shuddered, going a little pale.

"Always hated those things… Anyway Harry, I'll see you at Hogwarts!" Hagrid wandered off, while Harry wandered back over to his guardians, who were finally ready to leave.

"So birthday boy, where to first?"

"Let's get Madame Malkin's out of the way first, you know that'll be dull…"

* * *

Sirius and Harry went into Madame Malkin's while Remus and Peter skived off to Flourish and Blotts; Sirius declared he needed an experienced hand to help him make decisions about the best robes, and Remus and Peter certainly didn't qualify as experienced. As he moved into the fitting area, Sirius finally having been satisfied, he could hear voices, one male, rather arrogant and cold, and a female voice that sounded pleasant, if a little wary. He rounded the corner to see a young girl with incredibly bushy hair, and a mildly stunned expression on her face, talking – or more accurately, listening – to a pale faced boy with dark hair who Harry vaguely recognised.

"Of course, I'll be in Slytherin, all my family has been. Which House do you think you'll be in?"

"Well, I, I don't really…"

"Hm. Ravenclaw would be acceptable I suppose, but I think I'd leave if I was put in Hufflepuff, and as for _Gryffindor_…" The boy virtually spat after saying this, as if the word 'Gryffindor' left a nasty taste in his mouth. "What did you say your name was by the way?"

"Granger. Hermione Granger."

"Theodore Nott, you'll know the name of course. Granger… any relation to Hector Dagworth-Granger?"

"Not as far as I know."

"Oh. Don't recognise the family name then…"

"There's no reason that you should, I'm, what's the term, Muggleborn."

"Oh Merlin, another one… Well at least you won't be in Slytherin, they don't let your sort in there…" At this the girl's face flushed a deep red, compelling Harry to voice his disapproval.

"You know, you aren't exactly painting a shining image of Pureblood society here Nott." The pale boy turned, sneering at Harry impressively.

"And why should I bother, she wouldn't be able to appreciate it anyway."

"It's dishonourable; I thought that was something that Pureblood's valued above all else, or was I mistaken?"

"It's dishonourable for me to be talking to Mudbloods. What's your name anyway? Should I be wasting my time talking to you?" Harry, who had tensed up, ready to punch the boy for his casual obscenity, relaxed with a smirk; he hated the publicity, but moments like this always made him chuckle. He ran a hand through his hair, subtly moving it away from his scar.

"Well I'm only a Half-Blood, but I reckon you've heard of me…" Nott's eyes flicked up to the distinctive scar, and he paled quickly, looking down with an audible gulp. The girl – Hermione had she said her name was? – looked quizzically at them. Without another word, Nott walked out of the fitting rooms, looking over his shoulder at Harry. Harry turned back to the girl.

"Sorry about that, there are always a few idiots. Bad luck to run into one so soon though! I'm Harry by the way."

"Hermione Granger. Thanks for the support, but I was handling it."

"Oh right, I'll remember that next time. So, what do you think of our little extension?"

"Extension? What do you mean?"

"Where we are now. The town."

"Oh! It's fantastic! I can't believe it's all hidden away like that, how do they fit it in without people noticing?"

"Well, the specific spells are lost, but from the outside it isn't any thicker than the wall you walked through. Well, walked into might by more appropriate I suppose…"

"You mean we're inside the wall right now? That's impossible!"

"If it weren't for one little thing yes."

"And what's that?"

"Magic. Basically a group of wizards maybe, four, five hundred years ago came together and created this little extension, and various others around the country. I think there's a few in pretty much every country with a Magical community. The magic creates a whole world inside a tiny space, with portals for people to get to them from. They're only really used for important places, there are plenty of communities that only have basic charms on them to repel Muggles. Hogwarts is the only major Wizarding institution in the real world, and that's only because it was set up first, before these extensions were created."

"That's incredible… the extensions can go anywhere?"

"Presumably, but nobody knows how to make them now. The magic's been lost, and besides, for all that idiot earlier spouts off about blood purity, Magical power's on the decline at the moment. There used to be hundreds of powerful wizards like Dumbledore – you've heard of Dumbledore? – and now there isn't anyone to hold a candle to him. Quite sad really."

"I've got to say, it isn't really what I was expecting; the only wizards I've spoken to are that boy and our escort's a little… unusual."

"We're a strange lot by and large."

"You seem fairly normal."

"Ah, but I live in the Muggle world. I can manage what passes for normality."

"Oh? Didn't you say you were a Halfblood? Which of your parents is Muggle?"

"Neither. They're dead."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"I'd rather not talk about it if it's all the same to you."

They descended into silence, Hermione looking rather embarrassed. Eventually they were both fitted for robes, and they made their way back to the front of the shop. Harry turned to Hermione again.

"Well, nice to meet you Hermione. See you at Hogwarts I hope!"

"I hope so too! And thanks again for your help."

Harry and Sirius wandered over to Flourish and Blotts, where Remus had to be dragged away from a new magical theory book, and made their way to Ollivanders. The dingy shop was situated towards the far end of the extension, in Diagon Alley, surprisingly far away from what was widely acknowledged as the 'respectable' area of the extension, closer to Knockturn Alley than anywhere else. Ollivander didn't need to advertise to get customers; he had built up a reputation for creating the finest wands in the country over several centuries, and he refused to modernise just to appease people's sensibilities. It was a sign of the respect in which he was held that even the constant rumours about the possibility that he was a Half-breed didn't stop people buying their wands from him. Peter pushed open the ancient door, creaking as it did so, and the group stepped into the gloom. Harry looked around, squinting in the half-light. He suddenly made out two dim glows near the back of the shop, and as he focussed on them, Mr Ollivander stepped forward. He was a curious looking person, with pale skin, wispy hair and moon-like eyes that seemed to look straight through Harry. Meeting him in person, it was easy to believe the rumours, although quite what else he might have been escaped Harry completely. Ollivander turned to the surviving Marauders.

"Sirius Black… Oak, 10 inches, gytrash heartstring… Excellent for duelling – quite fortunate given your role in the war perhaps?" Sirius glanced down, as if embarrassed or offended, while Ollivander turned to Remus.

"Beech, 12 inches, dragon veins… Rather good for transfiguration I believe?"

"Its always worked rather well for me it has to be said."

"Excellent… And Mr Pettigrew… 11 inches, willow, unicorn hair… Something of an all-rounder for you. No specific weaknesses then… A fine attribute." This was met solely with a blank stare, concealing Peter's opinion of the analysis.

"And of course, Mr Harry Potter… I must say, I have been looking forward to this, the chance to supply the Boy-Who-Lived with his wand! I do hope that you're a challenge Mr Potter…" Before Harry had a chance to respond, Ollivander had whisked a measuring tape around him, and was gathering up boxes of wands for him to try.

"Perhaps this one Mr Potter, ash, with unicorn hair, nice for charms, go on, give it a wave…" Harry duly waved the wand, and was rewarded with a sharp bang as a chair behind him collapsed.

"Hmm… Perhaps not eh Mr Potter? Now… how about this one, an unusual one, redwood and dragon heartstring, but then you're an unusual customer aren't you?" This time, nothing happened at all. Ollivander's smile only became wider, as he continued to hand wands to Harry. Half an hour later, the smile was looking slightly more unnerved, and it seemed to Harry that there were more wands on the discarded pile than on the shelves; none of them worked, either wildly miscasting his magic or simply doing nothing, to all intents and purposes a useless piece of wood.

"I must say Mr Potter, this is most unusual… I don't think I've ever had a customer as hard to place as you! Now… I wonder… just wait here a moment please." He wandered off into the back of the shop, while Harry looked over at Remus, getting quite worried now. His magic had always been erratic – he really ought to have taken control of it by now, but he still occasionally had little accidents like the incident at the zoo the previous month – but nothing like this. Remus seemed to sense his panic, coming over to him.

"Don't worry, you're just being your usual difficult self. You'll get a wand sooner or later-" He broke off as Mr Ollivander came back into the room, a dusty box in his hands.

"Here Mr Potter, try this one. Holly, phoenix tail feather, 11 inches." Harry picked up the wand, and instantly felt his magic billow around him like a strong breeze. Grinning, he cast a _Lumos_ charm, and laughed as the room lit up. Remus, Sirius and Peter all applauded, but Ollivander merely looked curious. Lowering the wand, Harry looked at him in confusion.

"That is most interesting Mr Potter… You see, the phoenix who provided the feather for this wand gave one other feather… a feather that went into the wand that, well, the wand that gave you that scar." There was a moment of silence, before Remus spoke up.

"Well, couldn't Harry try some other wand? He doesn't want another reminder of all that!"

"It's ok Remus." Harry looked him in the eye. "The wand might chose the wizard, but it's the wizard who chooses what to do with it. Just because it's the same core doesn't mean anything."

"Well said Mr Potter, and after all, the Dark Lord performed great things did he not? Terrible to be sure, but great. I'm sure we can expect great things from you as well." Harry looked away, a little unnerved by this statement, only to see Sirius and Peter looking uncomfortable as well; Sirius was presumably remembering the horrific torture he had suffered under the twin wand, but Harry wasn't certain about Peter, he never really talked about what he did during the war. All Harry knew was that there was sometimes a Dark quality to Peter's magic that he couldn't quite understand. Perhaps he too had first hand experience of Voldemort's magic. Shaking his head, he turned back to Mr Ollivander, murmuring polite thanks for his help. The group walked out of the shop, Ollivander's moon-like eyes following them all the way.

* * *

A/N Read and review as ever please! Thanks in advance. 


	5. Arrival

Disclaimer in chapter one.

A/N It's finally up! Sorry it took so long; it just didn't really seem to flow, in addition to my exams and so forth. Ah well, hopefully the next one won't take as long. Most of the characters till the end of the book are now introduced though, so I can concentrate on playing around with them. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 5: Arrival**

* * *

_September 1__st__, 1991_

"Harry! Dudley! Time to get up!"

"Uhh… In a minute…"

"Now! We need to get to the station!" Harry's eyes shot open, and he leapt out of bed, the realisation that he was finally leaving for Hogwarts lending him unusual quantities of energy for so early in the morning. Aunt Petunia had cooked an enormous farewell breakfast for him, and his guardians were joining them before they headed to Platform 9¾s. Finally, they were all ready to go, Dudley having held them up greatly by oversleeping, and they headed off to a quiet corner of Privet Drive, Harry's luggage shrunk in his shoulder bag.

Making sure that there was no-one around to watch, Remus stuck his wand out. With an enormous bang, which surprised Harry by not waking everyone within three streets, the Knight Bus popped out of thin air, shuddering to a halt in front of them. The greasy haired conductor bustled them on board, as if worried that someone would notice them, despite the powerful Anti-Muggle Charm on the Bus. A brief argument followed about passenger priorities, resulting in Peter glaring at the youth until he submitted, and agreed to bump them up the schedule. The group moved towards the back of the bus, Remus quietly slipping Stan a few Sickles to calm him down after Peter's intimidation tactics. Unfortunately, the driver also objected to Peter, resulting in a bumpier than usual journey, so when they finally arrived at King's Cross, there were several nasty looks from the nauseous looking passengers.

Walking through the station, they saw numerous other families clearly on the way to Hogwarts, although, burdened as they were with large trunks and owls, they were attracting far more curious stares than Harry's group. One by one, they slid through the barrier, Dudley and Vernon gasping in astonishment at the sight of people disappearing into a brick wall, while Petunia simply smiled, remembering Lily leaving for school.

On the other side of the wall was… chaos. Young children running around in excitement, owls, cats, a few toads, confused Muggles, and clouds of steam billowing from the red train in front of them. Harry grinned as he took in the impressive sight.

"Harry!" Turning, he saw a large group of redheads wandering in the direction of the train; two of them had broken off from the rest of the group to come to Harry, a young boy and girl. Harry grinned in recognition.

"Hi Ron, Ginny. How were the grandparents?"

"Same as usual; nice enough, but a little dull. We had to leave a little early though, Fred and George were playing up, turned their owl into a statue by mistake…"

Harry burst out laughing, imagining the stern Wilbur Weasleyfaced with the twins, unrepentant pranksters that they were. Ginny, a small, rather shy girl, although good fun once drawn out of her shell, smiled as well, and said

"It was so funny! Dad was telling them off, but you could tell he didn't mean it, he was smiling, and he's never liked that owl, not since it bit him delivering a letter!"

"Is it just me Fred, or do you feel slightly embarrassed as well?"

"I do believe that they were talking about us brother of mine; one can only hope that it was complimentary"

"Of course it was, they were telling me about your pranks!"

The twins grinned smugly; both short and stocky, but almost constantly twitching in some way or other, signs of the wild uncontrollable magic that so often characterised Magical twins, and made their pranks so unpredictable. A side effect (a good one, if you believed the twins) was that it made it almost impossible to read their body language; staff could never tell if it was their magic or guilt making them twitch, meaning they got away with far more than they should have done.

"So ickle Harriekins, looking forward to our first term are we? Little Ronnie here was practically frothing at the mouth to leave…" Harry grinned in excitement, but restrained himself when he noticed the dejected look on Ginny's face; he knew that she was extremely upset that she would be the only one not going to Hogwarts this year, so contented himself with a simple nod of the head. The twins, catching the direction of his gaze, dropped the topic, although Ron looked a little confused. He opened his mouth to carry on the conversation, before a look of disgust flashed across his face.

"Greetings Weasley's one and all, Harry. How are we today?" Harry rolled his eyes, before turning round to greet the newcomer.

"Draco, good to see you. Manage to smuggle your broom in, or was that a little too much for you?" The aristocratic blond scowled, before shrugging.

"Father says it would be too much of an abuse of his position on the Board of Governors, although he did say he'd ask the Headmaster about changing the rule. Still, they'll be bound to change it once they see how good I am on a broom!" Harry, the twins and Ginny just let his boasting roll over them, but Ron, fuelled by his intense dislike of the Malfoy heir, glared, before starting to make a typically rude remark. Harry elbowed him, prompting a gasp from Ron and another smirk from Draco, before moving back to the Dursleys. On his arrival, he was immediately swept into a tearful hug by his Aunt as his family said their goodbyes.

* * *

Harry moved onto the train, looking for an empty carriage for himself and his friends. He eventually found a nearly empty carriage, occupied solely by a familiar looking girl in muggle clothing. He knocked and went in.

"Hi… Hermione? How was the rest of your summer?" She looked at him with a strange look on her face, as if she was afraid of him.

"It was ok I guess. I didn't really do much, just a bit of reading… Found quite a bit about you actually. You're quite famous aren't you?" Harry sighed.

"Yes, I suppose I am, but I prefer not to talk about it; no-one really knows what happened, so even if my parents hadn't been killed I wouldn't really want to take credit for Voldemort's death." Hermione gasped.

"I thought you weren't supposed to say his name?"

"It's a name, not a Summoning Charm. Besides, there's no magic that can bring back the dead, not in the way they were when they died."

"Oh… But people seem scared of you as well, that boy in the shop did, and the books say that you're really powerful!" Harry shrugged.

"It's possible; it's more likely that it was something my mum did before she died though, not me. I was just a baby! And Nott just knows it's a bad idea to be seen disagreeing with the Boy-Who-Lived. Don't get me wrong, I hate being so famous, but it is good for winning arguments with great satisfaction!"

At that point, the door burst open, as Ron staggered in, helping a pudgy boy with his trunk. The new arrivals blushed as Harry and Hermione stared at them.

"Sorry mate, bit of trouble with the trunk – what have you got in here Nev?"

"All my stuff for the year, what else? And my plants take up quite a bit of room Ron…" The red-head rolled his eyes, familiar with his friends fascination with plantlife. Stowing the trunk on the racks, the two boys sat down.

"Sorry to be rude, I'm Neville, Neville Longbottom. Who are you?"

"Hermione Granger, pleasure to meet you."

"Ron Weasley. Say Harry, what'd you think of the Cannons vs Tornadoes match, it was brilliant…"

* * *

Several hours later, and the train was nearing Hogwarts. The boys had been vigorously discussing Quidditch, although Neville had dropped out of the conversation periodically to tend his plants, and leaf through some of his textbooks. Hermione had spent the first part of the journey quietly staring at them, but had eventually dug out her textbooks, and spent the rest of the journey engrossed. As the boys began to change into robes, she left the carriage to put hers on. Just as they finished, the carriage door opened, revealing a pale boy on his own, a closed expression on his face.

"There's a rumour going round the train that the Boy-Who-Lived has deigned to join us; I don't suppose you three would happen to know anything about that would you?" He cast an evaluating glance over the trio. "Hmm. You're clearly a Weasley. Could be either of you though. Ah. You have shorter hair, and no scar. So it must be you. Am I right?" Harry nodded warily, unsure of the boy's identity and intentions. The boy smiled, satisfaction clear on his face, the first time any of them had been able to tell what he was feeling.

"Not bad. Not bad at all. You look like you might be worth something after all. See you around Potter." And with that, the mysterious boy vanished. The trio of boys looked at each other in bewilderment, before shrugging and returning to their conversation; the boy was clearly just another star struck fan of the Boy-Who-Lived.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express slowly pulled into the station in Hogsmeade, as the students on board moved their bags to the transport area, where the house-elves would move them up to the castle. Hermione was finally talking to someone, having been drawn into a discussion about various aspects of Herbology by Neville. As they walked down the platform, they spotted the giant figure of Hagrid, collecting the first-years for the traditional boat ride to Hogwarts before their Sorting. Hagrid waved at the little group, and Harry and Hermione waved back, causing Harry to look at her curiously.

"He was taking me round Diagon Alley to get my school things. He's nice isn't he?" Harry nodded in agreement.

"He certainly is; Hi Hagrid! Thanks for the owl, she's beautiful!I've called her Hedwig, do you like it?"

"Sounds like a fine name Harry; you all looking forward to the year? Hermione, how're you doing eh?"

"Oh I'm fine sir, a little nervous though…" Hagrid chuckled.

"Ah, you'll all be fine! Come on, let's get you over there shall we?" The foursome climbed into a boat, Harry noting, out of the corner of his eye, Draco sitting with Theodore Nott and the strange boy they'd met on the train. The boats set off, propelled forward by some kind of magic. There was a chorus of gasps from the new first years as they came round the side of a cliff, to see their first sight of the castle they would be spending most of the next seven years in. It was a sprawling, impressive sight, the four towers reaching high into the sky. Several turrets seemed to be supported solely by magic, and there was a faint glow coming off a large dome in the middle of the castle, that was presumably the magic from the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall.

Reaching the shore of the Lake, the first years disembarked, and followed Hagrid up to the classroom where they would wait to be Sorted. This landmark event in their lives was prompting fervent speculation, as not even the Purebloods knew how the Sorting happened; according to long-standing tradition; Ron was convinced they would end up fighting a troll, while Neville was sure they gave you a quiz, and sorted you depending on your answers. Harry could hear Draco swearing blind that it was based solely on your background; Purebloods to Slytherin, Muggleborns to Hufflepuff, and the Half-Bloods split between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, depending on their personality. Harry thought all these ideas unlikely, but was unable to come up with a better idea. Suddenly Hermione spoke up.

"Which House do you think you'll be in? I think Ravenclaw sounds most likely for me, but they all have their god qualities from what I can see…" Ron spluttered in indignation.

"What? The Snakes are evil! You-Know-Who himself was a Slytherin, there's nothing good about them at all!" Harry noticed several students, including Draco, glaring at the red-head, and rolled his eyes in exasperation.

What about you Potter? Are you too good to be a Snake?" Harry turned to see Theodore Nott sneering at him, while some of the other students in the group began to look at him with much more interest in reaction to his name. He shrugged.

"Every House has its good and bad points. Grindelwald was a Hufflepuff, Alberto Malich was a Gryffindor, there were lots of Death Eaters from every House. You can't generalise. I don't really care which House I'm in." Ron continued to stare incredulously, but the look on Harry's face persuaded him not to say anything. There was a look of approval on the face of the boy from the train, but it swiftly shifted back into inscrutability as Harry caught his eye. Harry turned back to his friends.

"Do you know that boy Harry? You seemed to in the shop, although I guess he knows you by reputation at least."

"I've seen him around, but I only really recognise him. I know enough about him to know that we probably won't get on that well though." Neville nodded in agreement.

"Gran always holds a party at the major festivals, he's been to a few of those. He's not very nice at all."

"Welcome First Years!" They all turned to gaze at the imposing woman who had just appeared through the door of the classroom; tall, with a piercing gaze that clearly said she would not stand for any bad behaviour. "I am Professor McGonagall, if you would all follow me."

As the group walked through the massive doors of the Great Hall, their eyes immediately shot upwards to stare at the ceiling. Harry heard Hermione reassuring a girl with curly brown hair and a somewhat vacant expression on her face that the ceiling was enchanted, not open to the sky. At the front of the Hall, in front of the staff table, was a battered old hat on a stool, that began to sing, a brief history of the Houses, ending with it proclaiming itself a Sorting Hat. Several of the First Years sighed in relief as they realised that they wouldn't actually have to duel a troll, although Harry could hear Ron muttering about revenge on the twins. Professor McGonagall began the list of students to be Sorted.

"Abbot, Hannah!"

"HUFFLEPUFF" There was a round of applause as the young girl scurried over to the table with the Badger shield hung from mid-air above it. Harry began to look around the Hall as the Sorting went on, looking back briefly as "Granger, Hermione" was made a Gryffindor, apparently much to her surprise going by the look on her face. He had noted the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore; he was hard not to notice if you were strong enough to sense magic, he was almost glowing, bathing those around him in the warmth of his magic. To his right was an very ugly man, crooked teeth and greasy hair that hung over his face, although his eyes seemed to glow, pulling your gaze towards them. Harry thought he knew who this teacher might be, but he was distracted by Neville's Sorting, also heading to the Lions. A few people looked surprised that the shy boy was in a House famous for it's bravery, but Harry knew that Neville was determined to one day avenge his parents; not all the Death Eaters involved in their torture had been caught. Draco and Nott were sent to Slytherin in quick succession, accompanied by groans from Ron, before Harry himself was called to the front, a sudden silence falling over the Hall. Harry sighed to himself as he sat down the Hat on his head.

"_Hmm… Oh, you are unusual aren't you Mr. Potter? A few unusual talents, and oh, such power! And of course, it isn't often we get someone of your fame and status sat on this stool my boy. Where to put you Mighty One? Hmm…loyal to a fault, I'd hate to endanger your family boy! No shortage of brains, but you don't always use them do you… A few of those 'incidents' over the years could have been avoided don't you think? Ambitious, but not all that fond of the spotlight, a shame, since your magic is going to turn heads wherever you go when it's fully formed… Strong sense of justice, and not prone to fear. You'd do well in any of the Houses boy; where would you like to go?"_

"_I thought you were supposed to be Sorting me, not asking my opinion!"_

A soft chuckle echoed through Harry's skull, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. _"A fair point I suppose… Do you know how long it is since someone dared to talk back to me Mighty One? No taste for the verbal dances of the Snakes, they'd eat you alive… No, you'd better be _GRYFFINDOR!"

The Hat's pronouncement was met with wild celebration from the Gryffindor table; several students jumping up to shake him by the hand, Fred and George cheering out loud, and enormous grins on the faces of almost everyone on the table. Ron and Neville looked sympathetic, knowing that Harry would hate the attention, while Hermione looked slightly intimidated. A few of the other new first years looked confused about all the excitement; presumably Muggleborns who hadn't heard of him. Blushing, Harry took his seat. A pointed cough from Professor McGonagall swiftly silenced the hall, and the Sorting continued, with Harry learning that the strange boy was a "Smith, Zacharias", and was now a Hufflepuff. As Dumbledore worked his way through his welcome speech, Harry returned to his examination of the Hogwarts faculty. His attention was fixed once again by the ugly man, who was watching him with an unpleasant look on his face, almost of loathing. This fairly solidly identified him in Harry's mind, but he tapped Fred on the shoulder to ask him.

"Hm? Oh, that's Snape. Nasty little git he is, do not cross him! He hates Gryffindors like I love Mum's cooking, and he doesn't look like he likes you at all. You'll learn a lot from him mind, he's brilliant at potions."

"And the Dark Arts from what I hear…" muttered Harry, staring at the Potions Master. He'd heard a lot about Snape from Remus and Sirius… Most of it from Sirius though, and although he loved his godfather very much, he was well aware that he had a fantastic ability to hold a grudge. What little he'd managed to glean from Remus about the Marauders' schooldays, who he considered a more trustworthy source than Sirius, and the significantly more detailed information from Aunt Petunia, had left him distinctly unimpressed. Pranking yes; bullying? That was a big no, and that was how the conflict between the Marauders and Snape came across to him. Still, whatever because of his father or because he had been, as Sirius claimed, a closet supporter of Voldemort, Snape clearly held no affection for him whatsoever. He resolved to avoid the man as much as possible.

The teacher in the purple robes next to Snape also intrigued him. He didn't look up to much, almost shaking, apparently in terror from his close proximity to the Potions Master (not that Harry could blame him), and kept making nervous glances around the Hall. However, when he looked at Harry, his eyes went blank, as if he didn't want to reveal his feelings about the boy. Perhaps a wizard from a dark family? It didn't necessarily mean Death Eater, there had always been dark wizards and witches, but even they had rather fallen from grace since Harry's 'triumph'; the fact that a baby had apparently defeated one of the Darkest wizards ever to walk the earth simply by existing had been taken as proof by some diehards that all dark magic should be outlawed. Even Harry knew this was ridiculous, there had to be a balance in the magic or catastrophe would strike, but the movements still persisted. A few moments discussion revealed that this was Professor Quirrell, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Not much was known about him, other than he had apparently had a nasty run-in with a feral vampire, which had understandably left him rather shaken, seemingly permanently. Harry put him from his mind as they were dismissed, Percy Weasley leading them up to Gryffindor Tower and their dormitories. As the boys unpacked their belongings, Harry looked around him with a smile. A year in a remote castle, learning magic with his friends, and making new friends? Slightly creepy teachers aside, he had a feeling that he was going to like it here.

* * *

A/N Reviews are, as always, welcome. 


	6. Reflections and Injuries

A/N Wow, go me! Two chapters in two days! As the title might suggest, there's a bit of action in this one. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 6: Reflections and Injuries**

By the time Halloween rolled round, Harry's guess from the beginning of the year had indeed been proved accurate; he was having a – mostly – fantastic time at Hogwarts. True, History of Magic was incredibly tedious, and Defence Against the Dark Arts was a joke, although Quirrell's expression whenever he looked at Harry, a curious mix of humour and something he suspected was strong dislike, continued to intrigue him. But such things could easily be learnt from books, and there were plenty of classrooms around to practice spells in should one wish to.

And by and large, the rest of his classes were far more interesting. Transfiguration was everything he had thought it would be. The time he had spent studying the theory with Remus had paid dividends, and he was one of the only pupils in the House who could be guaranteed to complete a task in one go, the other being Hermione Granger. Indeed, Professor McGonagall had been so impressed by their performance that she would sometimes summon them to her office for some advance work. This in turn had led to a burgeoning friendship between them, and friendly competition in Transfiguration, although Hermione had already proved that she was much smarter than Harry in pretty much every other subject.

Charms was thus far great fun, although the tiny Professor Flitwick's blatant admiration for Harry did sometimes get on his nerves. Still, he was willing to forgive that given his teaching ability; even Seamus had stopped blowing things up whenever he cast a spell under the kindly old man's gentle tuition. Which wasn't to say it didn't happen at all unfortunately, as several bed hangings in the dorm could attest to… Flying lessons were a little slow for Harry's tastes, but he had resisted showing off for fear of being banned altogether; he didn't think he could cope if he couldn't fly at all.

However, there was one area of his academic life that he absolutely loathed; Potions. Specifically, the Potions Master, Professor Snape. And the man had made it abundantly clear that he felt much the same about Harry ever since the first class of the year.

* * *

"_Hurry up Nev, Snape's going to kill us!"_

"_I'm coming I'm coming. Merlin, of all the classes we could get lost for…"_

"_Yeah, well, the others could have waited for us couldn't they? But no, they abandon us at the breakfast table. Some friends they are!"_

"_In fairness, can you blame them? Snape terrifies me!"_

"_Well, there is that I suppose, but we could have, I dunno, shown a united front or something?"_

"_Against him? You're insane Harry!" Harry rolled his eyes as they ran down the steps to the dungeons. Even though they hadn't had a Potions class yet, his opinion of Snape had quickly become popular, with some of the first years scared of him, some of them settling for anything from strong dislike to outright disgust, and the rest combining hatred and fear. This did not, of course, apply to the Slytherins, who Snape was incredibly biased towards. There were serious rumours in the Gryffindor common room that if a Slytherin were to actually kill someone in front of him, Snape would somehow find a way to blame it on a Gryffindor, or some other convenient target. _

_As they turned the corner into the relevant corridor, Snape himself rounded the corner at the far end of the corridor. A dark look crossed his face at the sight of two tardy Gryffindor first years, but as they were closer to the classroom than he was, he would – probably – be unable to take points. Harry and Neville grabbed seats together, just managing to get their equipment ready by the time Snape strode through the door, his black robes billowing like dark wings behind him. He glowered at the Gryffindor students as he walked to the front of the room, a deathly silence falling over the room. He spun round to glare at them._

"_As you ought to know by now, I am Professor Snape, the Potions Master. Note that it is Master, not just Professor. I have little tolerance for any mindless antics or incompetence; if you wish to participate in this class, you will follow my direction without question. Is that understood? I don't truly expect you to fully understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses… However, should you pay attention, and actually manage to scrap together anything resembling maturity and academic ability, I can teach you to do the impossible; to bottle fame, and to put a stopper in death itself… Assuming that you are not the collection of useless halfwits that you appear to be." _

_Snape passed a scathing glance over the students, pausing on Harry and Neville. "Potter, Longbottom! Get up!" Glancing nervously at each other, they obeyed swiftly. "Since you had the temerity to be tardy for this class, let us test your knowledge hm? Potter, what is a bezoar, and where would I find it?"_

_Harry closed his eyes, desperately trying to picture the Potions textbook that he had been leafing through the previous night, in preparation for the class. "Er…"_

"_Oh dear Mr Potter. You clearly don't have much behind that scar do you?" There were a few quiet sniggers from the Slytherin students that Snape did nothing to quash. The answer suddenly came to Harry, and he opened his eyes, meeting Snape's gaze defiantly._

"_A bezoar is a stone from the stomach of a goat, which can be used to cure the vast majority of poisons. Sir." Snape's lip curled unpleasantly._

"_A point from Gryffindor for looking smug Potter; if it took you that long to remember what a bezoar is, you might as well give up now. What would asphodel in an infusion of wormwood form the basis of?"_

"_That…would be the beginning of the Draught of Living Death sir."_

"_Good Lord Potter, was that a hint of actual study there? Keep it up and you might scrape an Acceptable in this class… although I doubt it. What is the difference between aconite and wolfsbane?"_

"_I… I don't know sir."_

"_Oh dear, and it was such a simple question too…" At this, Neville looked up, a look of annoyance mingling with his fear._

"_There isn't any difference sir. They're the same plant."_

"_A point from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn Mr Longbottom… although at least your interruption was accurate."_

That had been the closest to civil that Snape had ever managed in Harry's presence.

* * *

Harry sighed, and forced himself to think of other, happier things. The Halloween Feast for instance, which was almost legendary in its splendour. Sadly, Halloween was rarely a happy time for him, given its significance. Although he didn't really remember his parents, he had heard enough about them to know that he would have liked them, even if his dad had been a bit of a prat at school, and he felt that loss especially hard at the anniversary of their death.

He was currently looking for the information than Binns and Quirrell should have been teaching them in the library, but it was a rather dull job at the best of times, and he decided that it would be best to give it up as a bad job. He had no plans for the weekend after all, and he might be able to get some help from Hermione; it wasn't as if anyone else was taking up her time. No-one seemed to get on with her other than himself and Neville actually… Neville had lost his temper with Ron a few weeks previously after one of the redhead's less complimentary remarks about Hermione, a rare occurrence for the mild mannered boy.

As he walked into the Common Room, he saw Hermione storming off up the stairs to the girl's dorms, and he looked for Neville, wondering what had happened now. As he walked over to the other first years, Ron stood up and pushed past him. Harry looked over at his shoulder at him as he sat down, turning to Neville for an explanation. "Ron was stuck on his Charms work, and she offered him some help. He objected, rather rudely as usual. She stormed off in tears, and I told him he was an idiot, which he also objected to. You know, the usual." Harry rolled his eyes and sat back, letting the conversation flow over him, while slipping back into his earlier melancholy thoughts. Someone addressing him caused him to look up.

"Do either of you know how we can persuade Hermione to come down? She's charmed her hangings shut and won't come out." Lavender Brown, one of Hermione's room-mates, actually had a genuine expression of concern on her face, rather than her usual annoyingly chirpy grin. Harry and Neville glanced at each other in mutual exasperation with Ron.

"Go and tell her that I'll be down here if she wants to come out at all; I'll be here all evening most likely, not really that fussed about the Feast."

"You can't miss out on the Feast Harry! It's one of the most important events of the term!"

"Yeah, not really my favourite holiday really Lavender…" The curly haired girl clasped her hands over her mouth in embarrassment, and nodded quickly before running off upstairs. Neville looked at him in concern.

"Are you ok Harry? You've been quiet all day. Do you want to talk about it at all?"

"No, I'm fine Nev. Just a little tired, and I'm always like this at Halloween. You just go have fun at the Feast, I'll stay here and read. Might come down later if Hermione shows up ok?" Neville nodded, and set off to the Feast. Harry settled down with a book on duelling that he'd picked up. About ten minutes later, he was disturbed by the sound of someone coming downstairs. He looked up to see Hermione walking into the room, looking calmer than she had earlier, but still a little distressed. Harry raised a hand in greeting and she came to sit down. They sat in silence for a few minutes, then:

"Oh _why _must Ronald be so rude! I was only trying to help, he was cursing his head off in frustration! He's been like that all year! What have I ever done to him?"

"Nothing. That's just how he is. I dunno, he just never wants to take help from anyone really. It's not that it's you, it's more that he needs the help at all I think. I know he's an idiot, but try not to let him get to you. There's plenty more people you can hang out with, other than me and Nev of course. What about Lavender and Parvati?"

"Oh, they're nice enough, but they're always talking about make-up, and what this celebrity or that is doing; it's not like I'm interested in that even if I did know who they were talking about!" Harry chuckled at this, prompting a glare from Hermione, before she smiled ruefully.

"I'll have a word with Ron, try to get him to be a bit more sensible, ok? Now come on, let's go get some dinner. I don't know about you, but I'm starving!"

"Just let me go wash my face – "

"Oh, you can do that on the way. There's plenty of toilets en-route!" The two friends left the common room, heading down the moving staircases to the Great Hall, via a less travelled route, so Hermione could compose herself without running into anyone. As they got to the bottom, Hermione slipped into the bathroom quickly, while Harry stood outside. While he was waiting, the sounds of a large group of people moving very fast echoed down the corridors to him, and he frowned in puzzlement. Surely the Feast couldn't be over that quickly?

All of a sudden, a horrendous smell wafted towards him, and he bent double gagging. The smell was followed by a loud, ponderous tread of footsteps that seemed to shake the corridor. Pressing himself up against the wall, Harry poked his head around the corner… and jerked it back again, unable to believe what he had just seen. Blinking, he looked round again.

He had been right. Standing at the end of the connecting corridor was an enormous wood troll, a massive club in its gnarled hands. There was an ugly look on its face, and as Harry watched, it smashed the club into a nearby suit of armour, apparently disgusted by its presence. Harry heard the bathroom door creak open behind him, and a gagging noise. "Good Lord Harry, have you been letting off dungbombs? Filch is – "

"Shut up!" Harry pushed her back into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind him.

"Harry? What are you doing? Stop messing around!"

"It's not a dungbomb Hermione, it's a troll."

"Oh don't be ridiculous – "

"I'm serious Hermione; there's a real, very large, and very angry troll outside. So be quiet, ok?" As he spoke, they gradually made out a noise coming from outside… a noise that sounded curiously like sniffing. Harry looked at the wide eyed girl in front of him. "Hermione, you need to think, can trolls hunt by smell?"

"I…I… I don't know, I can't remember, oh Merlin Harry, there's a troll, there's an actual TROLL out there!"

"Ssshh! Come on, in here…" He pushed her inside one of the cubicles, drawing his wand as he did so. He frantically scanned his mind for some spell that could come in useful, but none of the Duelling spells he knew would take care of a troll… He looked at Hermione to see if she could offer any suggestions, but she seemed to be almost catatonic.

The door was reduced to splinters as the troll rammed its club through. It pushed its way through the wreckage of the doorframe, sniffing loudly as it did so. Clearly, trolls could hunt by smell. Harry crouched down as Hermione whimpered. His head was pounding in a familiar manner. _Oh no, not now…_ Then, with a sudden loud crash, the cubicle stalls were cut in two as the troll swung his club through them, showering Harry and Hermione with splintered wood. Hermione screamed and Harry turned, gasping in shock at the large fragment of wood sticking through her left arm. Hermione had gone pale, and was panting heavily, clearly fighting to stay conscious.

Before Harry could do anything, the troll roared, raising its club above its head, preparing to smash it down on them. Harry pulled Hermione out of the way, but his leg was caught, and it was his turn to scream as he felt the bones shatter under the force of the blow. The pounding in his head increased, and he felt his magic coil up in anticipation. The troll aimed another swing, which the duo just managed to duck, and the sinks next to them shattered, sending a strong jet of water shooting out of the pipes at the troll. It moved its hand to block it, before raising the club again. However, Hermione had managed to gather her wits just enough to shout an incantation.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The trolls club rose into the air, and then fell to the ground, hitting its foot, as Hermione lost control of the spell in pain. The troll roared again, just as the pounding in Harry's head reached its peak. Barely able to see, he aimed his wand at the stream of water, and gave up on trying to hold his magic back. It snapped out, turning a shard of mirror into a crow, and hit the stream of water, transfiguring it into some kind of metal. The water, still aimed at the troll, knocked its fist backwards as it solidified, so that it suffered a dual impact to the jaw. Already off balance from its foot injury, it groaned, falling backwards and smashing through the wall.

Everything went quiet. Harry flopped to the floor, still in agony from his shattered leg, and now feeling drained by the massive amount of magic he had just expended. He vaguely heard Hermione calling his name, and seeing several people, adults he thought, rushing into the bathroom, as he gave into the darkness and fell unconscious.

* * *

A/N Reviews are, as always, appreciated. Please? 


	7. Recovery

**Chapter 7: Recovery**

_His body ached._

"_Harry… Harry, can you hear me?"_

_A troll… his leg – it was only his leg the troll injured, why was his entire body in pain?_

"_Harry, we need to run some tests… Do you understand me?"_

_That wasn't Madame Pomfrey. Could he have suffered other injuries after passing out, that went beyond her expertise? _

"_Your leg can be fixed easily, don't worry, but you need to wake up first… Harry?"_

_He tried to answer, but he felt detached, from the speaker, from the situation, from his body even. _

"_It's no good Headmaster, he isn't responding. We're going to have to go ahead with the tests anyway. If we don't work out why his magic plays up like this then he might never wake up."_

_Magic playing up? What did they mean? He remembered the pounding headache, as if it was a distant memory; had his magic run wild again? It had never felt like this though._

"_Very well, do what you must."_

_

* * *

_

Albus Dumbledore watched as the assorted Healers waved their wands and other tools of their craft over the unconscious boy before them. On the other side of the room, Madame Pomfrey was dealing with Hermione's injured arm. Dumbledore was joined by Professors McGonagall and Snape, who were viewing the scene before them with concern and contempt respectively. He sighed heavily. "A bad business, a very bad business – and of all the First Years to be injured, it had to be Harry… Severus, do you have any further information on how the troll managed to get in?"

"One of the dungeon walls has been broken down Headmaster, but that doesn't tell us _why_ a troll would break in. They aren't that aggressive, or that stupid."

"No indeed. There are rumours in the financial sector that there was an break-in attempt at Gringotts… It would seem to be far too much of a coincidence that two previously unheard of events take place within months of each other." Snape's eyebrows rose in surprise, before a contemplative look fell across his face.

"True. Do you think the brat will survive Albus?" Dumbledore managed a small smile.

"Why Severus, showing concern for him? I believe he will be fine, but I've been wrong before… And he isn't a brat Severus, you really need to work on your hatred of Sirius and James."

"I do work on it Headmaster. Constantly. I'm proud to say it's stronger than it was at school as a result." Professor McGonagall snorted loudly.

"Merlin Severus, you really are petty aren't you? James is dead for Heaven's sake! It isn't as if you were blameless now; you jinxed them as often as they did you!" Snape turned his best glare on her.

"That may be so; I never tried to feed any of them to a were-wolf though. Precisely what did I do to your precious Marauders to deserve that particular little jape Minerva? Can you defend that?" Professor McGonagall flushed, angry with herself for allowing Snape to rile her, but before she could respond Dumbledore raised his hand.

"This is neither the time nor the place; Harry is seriously ill, and we should not disturb him with arguments about events long past. I will check on our little package immediately; Severus, I want you to – discreetly – investigate what could induce a troll to break in; get Hagrid to assist you if need be. Minerva, do keep me posted on Mr Potter and Miss Granger." Snape inclined his head in agreement, before sweeping out. McGonagall opened her mouth again, but Dumbledore cut her off. "No Minerva; that is a conversation that it will never be the time or place for. I would hope that after all these years you would simply be able to take my word on some matters."

"I like to know why I can trust people Albus. Severus has never proven that he can be trusted to anyone but you. And he proved that he was a vicious character at school; traits that deep can never be totally removed."

"And yet as he so rightly pointed out, he didn't show murderous tendencies then, unlike Sirius Black. Would you be so quick to accuse him? Attend to your duties Minerva."

"I haven't always defended Sirius; I suggested he could be a spy during the war. But Severus isn't just irresponsible Albus - "

"I said no Minerva. Let us leave Harry and Miss Granger in peace." With that, Dumbledore left the Hospital Wing. McGonagall remained for a few moments, watching her students. Hermione was now drinking several potions, for shock and to make her sleep. Otherwise, she was fine. Harry was still unconscious, and the Healers were examining the results of their tests.

"Rest well Mr Potter; get well soon."

* * *

Harry's eyelids fluttered open and shut. They did so again, before he gradually opened them, wincing at the light next to his bed. He had a headache, although not the pounding one that indicated an imminent bout of accidental magic. This one just hurt. He raised his head, looking around him. It was then that he saw his leg, bound and held straight. He leant down, and rubbed it gently, before recoiling, gasping, as his leg exploded in pain. The commotion drew Madame Pomfrey from her office. "Ah, Mr Potter, awake at last are we? Don't worry about your leg, it'll be easy enough to fix; you're going to feel it while it happens though. Before that, the Headmaster would like a word." She returned to her office, leaving Harry to try and recall what had happened.

He remembered going down to the Feast with Hermione, and then – oh _Merlin_! They had actually been attacked by a troll! He shook his head, dazed. Surviving an attack by a troll with an injured but easily fixable leg was a miracle! His musings on his luck were interrupted by the arrival of Professor Dumbledore. "Ah, Harry, how are you feeling? I must say, you are looking much better." He sat down, reaching into a pocket. "Can I interest you in a lemon drop? No? A pity, such a marvellous sweet you know."

"Madame Pomfrey said you wanted to speak to me sir. Am I in trouble? We didn't mean to be there, it was an accident -"

"Don't worry Harry, neither you nor Miss Granger are in any trouble. Do you remember what happened?" Harry frowned.

"I remember being attacked by the troll, but other than that not much. Madame Pomfrey said that my leg would be fine though."

"And so it will, however, that is not the end of the tale. You performed a rather impressive piece of transfiguration Harry. Water into -"

"Metal" Harry breathed. "I remember now, I had a headache, like I was about to lose control, and then I transfigured the water!" Dumbledore smiled.

"You did indeed. You then passed out; apparently you were suffering from magical exhaustion, but none of the normal treatments seemed to have any affect. And it is that I wish to speak to you about. You are aware, I assume, that it is rare for people to suffer accidental magic to such an age?" Harry nodded, a wave of anxiety flooding over him.

"When the Healers we summoned from St. Mungo's performed an examination of your magical core, we discovered something rather unpleasant; there is a block on your magic Harry."

"What do you mean sir? It feels normal enough."

"I am sure it does. However, the fact remains that there is a block on your magic. The Healers believe, and it makes a great deal of sense, that it is a result of the Killing Curse you survived, that it has put a kind of barrier in your magical core. The full explanation for this is somewhat complex, especially for so early in the morning; for the moment, suffice it to say that the barrier seems to be gradually breaking down, resulting in your occasional outbursts of magic such as the transfiguration with which you felled the troll, and vanishing the glass in the zoo over summer."

Harry gazed at him in astonishment, and a certain amount of distress. "So I could be more powerful than people think I am? Remus says I'm already pretty powerful, and if I don't have complete access to my magic… Or is it permanent?" Dumbledore smiled ruefully.

"Alas, I am unable to confirm your question one way or another Harry. As I have said, we suspect that the barrier will be worn down over time, but not even I am all-knowing, contrary to common room rumour. Therefore, you will be coming to me for an examination every few weeks, so that we can check on your core. And yes, should it break up completely, you will be a very powerful wizard Harry. Now, unless you have any further questions, I shall leave you to complete your recovery; I believe you have a dose of Skele-Gro to drink. Still, there are far brighter things to look forward to on the horizon! I shall contact you with the time of our first appointment soon. Till then, rest well, work hard, and have a most enjoyable time Harry."

As the old wizard left, Madame Pomfrey bustled over, a business like look on her face and holding her wand and a smoking vial of some potion. Looking at her, Harry came to the realisation that this was not going to be enjoyable in the slightest.

* * *

It was the day after, and Harry had finally been allowed to leave the Hospital Wing, his leg still twinging from the shattering, removal and then regrowth of all the bones in it. He was still considering the explanation the Headmaster had given him for his magical outbursts; Harry had always been rather proud of his power, some would have said arrogant, but the idea that he still didn't have access to his full power scared him a little. He was no fool, and knew well the dangers of too much power in a wizard – Dumbledore had managed to master his magic, while Voldemort had let his run wild, which had in part accounted for how dangerous he had become. Harry knew this, and knew that he would rather die before becoming a wizard such as Voldemort, but in turn he didn't know if he had the control that Dumbledore clearly had.

Still, from what the Headmaster had been saying, it would be a while yet before he was running at full power, so he had time to practise. And there were other things to worry about; Hermione's well being for a start. He hadn't seen her in the Hospital Wing, and only had a fuzzy memory of what had happened to her. He hurried through the winding corridors of the ancient castle to the Gryffindor common room; there would surely be someone there who would be able to tell him about her, assuming she wasn't there herself.

Muttering the password (_auliya) _to the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry walked into the common room, to witness something he had never seen before, and had hitherto believed impossible.

Ron and Hermione. Having a civil conversation. Was he still suffering from concussion, or had he just been unconscious for a lot longer than he had believed? He walked slowly over to them, wanting to find out precisely what had happened, yet hesitant, in case his approach broke whatever enchantment had been placed on them and they reverted to type. Hermione looked up, and a delighted grin broke out on her face as she jumped up to hug him tightly.

"Harry! Oh thank God you're ok, we were so worried! It's been three days!"

"Yeah mate, how thick can you get, taking on a troll? On the other hand, taking down a troll is _seriously_ cool."

"Thanks. That's a big comfort to my shattered leg. Was I really out for three days?" Hermione nodded vigorously.

"I was only there for about an hour, Madame Pomfrey fixed me up in no time, but when I left there were about five Healers from St Mungo's with you! I thought you'd been really badly injured, but Professor McGonagall told us not to worry, that you were fine."

"And she was right, so don't worry Hermione! What was going on anyway; why was there a troll lose?" This time, Ron cut in before Hermione could fire off an answer.

"We were all down in the Great Hall, at the Feast, you know. Anyway, it was all going fine, and then Quirrell just burst in, came running down the middle of the Hall just screaming about a troll! We all got sent back here, but when we got here Nev realised that you two weren't. Percy sent the teachers looking for you - "

"And they found us just as you knocked the troll out, and just how did you manage that by the way? That was very advanced magic Harry!" Harry shrugged.

"I don't really know what happened; my magic just lashed out, it does that sometimes. This time it worked out for the best, rather than just turning your hair blue or something. Anyway, can we go and get some food? I'm really hungry."

"Hang on mate, I'll just go and get Nev – he'll want to see you too!" As Ron ran up the stairs, Harry turned to Hermione.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"What changed? You were being friendly! With Ron! Something must have happened." Hermione giggled.

"Oh, he was so apologetic when I got back, really upset that the last thing he'd said to me before I nearly died was so rude. He looked so sweet, I couldn't say no to him! So we're all friends now."

"Well, that's… good I guess." Before he could comment further, Ron arrived with Neville, who bounded over to Harry to welcome him back. They went down to lunch, Ron and Hermione continuing their earlier conversation, while Neville held Harry back.

"Something to tell you; you know that corridor on the third floor?"

"What, you mean the one that we're forbidden to enter on pain of death?"

"That's the one, yeah. Well, Ron and I were sneaking up to the Hospital Wing to see you, the first night you were in there. Anyway, we ran into Mrs Norris, so had to leg it. And we hid from Filch inside this corridor – didn't realise which it was at first. Guess what's in there."

"Something dangerous presumably… Vampires?"

"Nope. An actual, genuine, Cerberus!" Harry stopped, and stared at Neville incredulously.

"A Cerberus? They're pretty much extinct! What's one doing here?"

"Well, we think it was standing on top of a trapdoor, although we were admittedly more focussed on its teeth than its feet. Maybe it's guarding something!"

A faint memory stirred in Harry's memory. "Wait a minute… While I was in the Hospital Wing, I'm sure I heard Dumbledore say something about a break in at Gringotts. And if you wanted something safe, then you'd put it in Gringotts or here wouldn't you! Maybe Dumbledore's guarding something!"

"That's what we thought; but listen, that's not all. The day after you were attacked, we saw Snape, and he was limping, like he'd been bitten or something. We reckon that he's trying to steal whatever it is under the trapdoor, and that he let the troll in for a bit of a distraction."

Harry frowned. "I don't really buy that to be honest. Snape's an evil minded git, but I don't think he'd go against Dumbledore. For one thing, he isn't that stupid."

"Oh well, in that case, I guess it could be Quirrell." The absurdity of this suggestion set them both sniggering; Quirrell seemed to be a stuttering fool and nothing more, despite the curious look on his face whenever he met Harry. The cherubic curls of his hair didn't exactly add anything to his appearance, looking curiously out of place on the man's pinched face. Harry had to admit, Snape at least looked the part of the villain.

Still, it wasn't his problem; for all he knew, the only thing that the Cerberus was guarding was Dumbledore's photo albums. And if it was something more valuable than that, it was sure to be well guarded. He put the puzzle from his head, concentrating on the far more important task of lunch.

* * *

_A/N: Reviews are, as always, welcome_


	8. Nightmares and Further Reflections

**Chapter 8: Nightmares and Further Reflections**

**

* * *

**

_Harry ran through the twisted, distorted corridors of Hogwarts frantically, unable to see the thing that was chasing him, but aware of its heavy tread, and horrendous stench, that swept before it like a tidal wave. The smell was not just that brought about by nature, but the foul smell of truly Dark magic. _

_Turning into another corridor, he sprinted down the left hand side, only to arrive at a locked door, which withstood all his attempts to open it. Panting heavily, he gradually became aware of a low growling behind the door, and the realisation of where he was slowly dawned on him. The third floor corridor, where Ron and Neville had come across the Cerberus. Turning around to try and run the opposite direction, he saw a shadow fall across the wall from the corridor he had just left. The creature had caught up with him._

_He sank down against the stout door as he finally saw what his nemesis was; a troll, such as had attacked him and Hermione in the toilets, but twisted by the Dark magic he could smell. As if it's original appearance wasn't bad enough, it was now hunched over, with pale skin that more closely resembled scales than actual flesh. The sunken eyes now glowed a demonic red, and the snarling mouth revealed enormous, razor-sharp fangs, as if it had been cross-bred with a giant snake. It still carried the club, but while it's length was the same, it was now thinner, and looked more like freakish wand than the simple length of wood it had resembled previously. Instead of the guttural roar that had shaken the walls on Halloween, it was high, and cold, and chilled his blood more than anything else about the foul apparition._

_Striding towards Harry, the monstrous thing raised the wand-like club above it's head, before bringing it crashing down on Harry's legs. Harry screamed in agony as the creature raised it's weapon again, pointing it more like a wand this time. In a voice that an animal such as a troll surely could not have produced, yet did not sound like it had ever been produced by a human voice-box, it uttered an incantation._

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

_Harry was engulfed by poisonous green light…_

_

* * *

_

Harry sat up in bed, drenched in sweat and shaking violently. His gaze swept the room, making sure that he really was in his bed in the dorm, and that there were no hideous, unnatural monsters trying to kill him. Having reassured himself that he was safe, and alone but for his classmates, he lay back, covering his face with his hands.

Three weeks! Three weeks since Halloween, and the nightmares were getting worse, not better. And what was that one about? He understood the troll showing up, that was fairly obvious, but which sordid part of his sub-conscious had twisted it like that?

Harry rubbed his face; a small part of him – the sensible part – acknowledged that after a traumatic event such as being half-killed by an enormous troll, nightmares were only to be expected, even if they were horrifically surreal ones such as he had just experienced. This small part of him also acknowledged that it would be a good idea to go to Madame Pomfrey for something to alleviate the nightmares, that she would be understanding and sympathetic.

The larger part of him, the part that owed more to his Marauder heritage than he would like to admit, the part that was conscious of his position as The Boy-Who-Lived, saviour of the Wizarding world and all round fairytale hero, refused to admit that the nightmares troubled him at all. He'd defeated Voldemort for Merlin's sake! Admittedly, he had no idea how, but the fact remained that he had defeated him; a troll should be childs play. He knew that Hermione was unaffected by nightmares by the well rested look she always possessed, and he spent a few minutes brooding on this unpleasant fact. He supposed it was true that she had not been directly attacked by the troll, that honour having been reserved for him; maybe that meant she was not as troubled by it.

These thoughts continued for sometime, before Harry finally concluded that there was no way he would be getting back to sleep anytime soon. In addition to the horrific dreams, he was nervous about his upcoming examination with the Headmaster; he had been paying attention to the feel of his magic whenever he had cause to cast a spell, and he could feel no change in it, and was therefore worrying about the possibility that the barrier on his magic was not breaking up.

It had recently occurred to Harry that the famous Hogwarts library would likely have a book or two that might have information on cases such as his; the Healers might not have come across such a situation before, but all that proved was that such things were rare, not unheard of. There were books thousands of years old in the library. There would surely be something that would cover magical cores and barriers placed on them…

Carefully, making sure he didn't disturb any of his classmates, Harry climbed out of bed, quickly donning a pair of robes over his pyjamas. Leaving the dormitory, the creak of the door mercifully covered up by Ron's hearty snoring, he crept down the winding stairs, looking out for late studying students. Seeing that the common room was empty, and silencing the insistent voice in his head telling him this was among the kind of things he disapproved of the Marauders for, he slipped out of the portrait hole, the Fat Lady thankfully absent.

Keeping to the shadows, and avoiding the patrolling ghosts (as much for the chill that went through him whenever he got to close as for the danger of them fetching Filch), he made his way down the vast staircases to the library. As he reached the third floor, a shiver ran down his spine, recalling the nightmare that had woken him earlier. He paused to gather his thoughts… only to hear voices coming down the main corridor. Intrigued, he crept in the direction they were coming from.

Peering round the corner, he spotted two figures standing outside the thick, locked door that, in theory, prevented wandering students entering the forbidden corridor. As his eyes adjusted to the glare of the lantern one of the two people was holding, he realised, with a sinking heart, that they were the two worst possible people he could have happened upon; Mr Filch, the notoriously miserable caretaker, and Harry's least favourite teacher, Professor Snape.

"Still locked up tight Professor; I still can't see anyone trying to steal it, begging your pardon sir, not with the traps the faculty set. They must be pretty much impossible to get past!"

"You'd think so wouldn't you? But our dear Headmaster hasn't contributed anything as yet, still organising it he says. He's the one who wants that blasted trinket here, but he makes us do the work of protecting the damn thing! You'd have thought a troll breaking in might give him some motivation, but no, all he does is sit there with that damn twinkle in his eyes, telling you it'll all work out for the best. And the protection we have been asked to contribute would hardly stop a determined Dark wizard, a common thief maybe, but even then I have my doubts. One can only hope that Flamel is satisfied with the arrangements…"

"Ah, well, no doubt the Headmaster will have something special planned sir. He's a great one for schemes he is."

"Yes he is, but it would be nice if some of his games occasionally took into consideration how his players might feel; it wouldn't surprise me to find out that this was merely a test of someone, and that the Stone isn't there at all."

"Heh, the Potter kid maybe – check if he's all in one piece? Although you'd have thought seeing off a troll would be proof of that…"

"Argus, Potter is nothing more than a pathetic little nonentity with delusions of grandeur; he still suffers from accidental magic at eleven for Merlin's sake! He should have grown out of that years ago. And as for his potions ability… Well, let us just say that if I have a choice between slow, lingering death at the hands of the Dark Lord himself, or a healing potion that brat has brewed, then welcome back You-Know-Who, all is forgiven!"

"Hasn't been any trouble to me so far sir. Of course, he looks as arrogant as they come, but they're all like that as far as I'm concerned, so why should I care about that?"

"He's a Potter Filch. If you haven't caught him doing something he shouldn't be yet, that only means he's had enough practice to avoid being caught, mark my words."

Having heard enough character assassination by his least favourite person in the world, Harry set off back along the corridor, his thoughts spinning. The Cerberus clearly was guarding something, a trinket, or stone. If it was being guarded at Hogwarts, and protected by various traps devised by the staff, then it was presumably something more than an ordinary precious stone. And it belonged to someone called Flamel… Harry didn't know the name, but if the object really was a powerful magical object, then there would probably be something on him in the library.

Still musing on the possibilities, Harry did not pay sufficient attention when entering the library; his blind wandering caused him to knock over a stack of books. Frantically picking them up while keeping an ear open for Filch and Snape, he was distracted from his task by a soft thud. Slowly turning around, Harry saw the unpleasant sight of Mrs Norris, Filch's pet cat. Swearing under his breath, Harry backed away towards the back door of the library. Mrs Norris suddenly darted off in the opposite direction, and Harry fled.

Ducking into a corridor that would eventually lead him to the Grand Staircase, Harry was horrified to see a tapestry move aside, revealing Filch and Snape, hot on the heels of Mrs Norris. "Oi! Stop right there!"

"_Locomotor Mortis!"_

Fortunately for Harry, his end of the corridor was in shadows, meaning he was, in addition to being unrecognisable, a hard target; consequentially, Snape's spell missed him by quite a margin. Still, he thought it a good idea to run while he still could, and set off at a fair pace. He could hear them behind him as he ran, turning into a side corridor. As he ran, he tripped over the edge of his trailing robes, falling against a wall… which promptly vanished, leaving him falling down a steep slope.

The fall was over before he had time to yell out, and after landing he looked around him in a daze. He hadn't fallen that far, so he was presumably only on the floor below, but in what seemed to be an out of use area; there was dust everywhere. As he surveyed the corridor, Harry noticed a trail of footprints leading back and forth from one particular room. His curiosity engaged, he walked over to the door, wincing slightly at the ache in his body from the fall.

He pushed open the door, revealing a room that was again covered in dust, with the exception of one item in the middle of the room – a large mirror, taller than most men, nearly to the ceiling, and with an ornate gold frame. As Harry walked over to it, he noticed an inscription at the head of the mirror: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

Harry walked over to the mirror. As he stood in front of it, he thought he saw a figure in the corner of it, a young girl with a red balloon, but looking directly revealed nothing, as did a quick look around the room, and he dismissed it as his imagination. Harry walked around the mirror slowly, before returning to the front. It seemed to be an ordinary mirror, if rather grander than most, but there was something about it that called to him somehow. He walked round it again, vaguely thinking that he might have missed something previously.

When he returned to the front again, there were two people, a man and a woman, standing in the mirror. Harry leapt back in surprise, before looking round the room frantically; there was no-one there, yet, looking at the mirror again, the two people were still there. They looked familiar somehow… especially the man – if it weren't for the man's age and the woman beside him, Harry would simply have thought it an ordinary mirror still. They were both smiling now, and the woman suddenly started waving at him. Her eyes looked familiar too…

And then, with a jolt of realisation that sent him to his knees, Harry realised who they must be. Hadn't he always been told how much he looked like his father, and how closely his eyes resembled Lily's? The people in the mirror were older than his parents had been when they died, looking as they might had they lived, but they were still recognisably his parents. What kind of mirror was this?

Both his parents were waving at him now, and in spite of his shock Harry smiled himself, and waved back tentatively. He loved his family very much, but privately he would have given anything for the chance to get to know his parents; this wasn't quite how he'd imagined it, but it was better than the photographs that he already had. And he'd heard of wizards who could travel through mirrors into a strange world behind the glass; perhaps if he could achieve that with this mirror then he really could meet them! The sight of his parents, and the joyful looks on their faces, stirred an old hatred within him, directed at their murderer.

All of a sudden, a new shape appeared in the mirror. This one was not as clearly defined as Harry's parents, seeming to be composed solely of smoke, and having only the vaguest relation to a human body shape. Harry's parents shied away from it as if afraid, and Harry got a definite sense of malevolence from it. As he stared, his scar began to twinge violently. He backed away from the mirror, only stopping to whisper "I'll come back, I promise" before he fled the room to the safety of his bed.


	9. Hearts Desire

A/N: No, I'm not dead! Just resting… Sorry about the lengthy wait, hope the chapter makes up for it. Enjoy!

**Chapter 9: Hearts Desire**

"Are you alright mate?" Harry dragged his mind back to the present, and looked Ron in the eye. His friend looked concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"So you're just not interested in the conversation then? You were ignoring us!"

"Oh… Sorry, I was just thinking about – something. What were you saying?" But as Ron continued his rant about Snape's latest outrages, Harry's attention wandered back to the mysterious mirror again. He had been back to it every night since his first visit, and his lack of sleep was even more obvious now. On the other hand, the horrific dreams of trolls and hybrid Dark creatures had now been replaced by dreams of the mirror, which was, although strange, far more preferable than nightmares of his violent death.

Although Harry was happy to see his parents, the nature of the mirror puzzled him. It was clear the mirror didn't show the future; he had known for years that there was no magic that would truly bring back the dead. It clearly didn't show the present; his parents had not had the fear of death that would have prompted them to stay behind as ghosts, and if they had he would surely have seen them before, and with his own eyes, not simply in a reflection. And if the mirror showed the past, then why did his parents look older than they did in any of the photographs he had of them? He had no explanation for it, and he could hardly ask the any of the staff, given that it was fairly clear students weren't supposed to know about the mirror.

The dark figure that would sometimes appear puzzled him as well, indeed, frightened him. Every time it appeared, his scar would begin to ache, getting worse the longer he stayed by the mirror. The previous night, he had stayed there so long, determined to work out who or what it was, that the scar had started to bleed. Disturbingly, the mirror had rippled, as water when disturbed by a stone, as if it _wanted_ his blood… It wasn't the only worrying thing about the Mirror. Harry was not unintelligent, and knew that anything that could exert such a strong pull on his mind was probably not going to be good for him in the long run.

"Harry? Seriously mate, what's wrong?" Again, Harry came back to the present, to see his friends looking at him, concern plain on their faces.

"Sorry guys, I've just got a lot on my mind at the moment. I'm fine, really." A look of understanding crossed Neville's face, and he shared a glance with Hermione, while Ron continued to look worried. Hermione gripped his shoulder tightly.

"You'll be fine Harry, I'm sure of it. You'd know by now if something was badly wrong with your magic, and Dumbledore seems to be able to do anything he likes if there is, he'll be able to think of something. You'll see."

"I know Hermione, but still, it's a little worrying…" Harry said, pouncing on the convenient excuse. Really, he wasn't worried about his magic at all; he'd reached the same conclusions as Hermione, and he still felt pure joy whenever he used magic, which suggested, in Harry's view, that his magic was clearly uncorrupted. His friends had however, been concerned about it ever since he'd told them part of the truth. He didn't want to admit to anyone yet that his magic might have been tampered with by Voldemort's spell; he received enough admiration as it was, without people knowing that he was potentially much more powerful than he appeared. As Ron's rant about Snape continued – something about him taking points for looking suspiciously cheerful – his eye was caught by the clock in the corner of the room. Swearing under his breath, he hurried out of the Common Room. He was going to be late.

* * *

Harry sat very still as Madame Pomfrey waved her wand over him, muttering under her breath. The elderly Healer scared him a little, more so even than Dumbledore, who for all his fame, and despite his occasionally piercing eyes, seemed more like someone's grandfather than a mighty wizard of international repute. As she came to the end of her examination, she frowned. Putting her wand away, she turned to Dumbledore, who was watching quietly, his fingers arched in front of his face. She muttered something in his ear, causing him to nod calmly, as if the news was nothing unexpected. She turned back to Harry, a stern look on her face. 

"Well Mr Potter, the Headmaster will take you through the results. There is another matter though. You clearly aren't sleeping enough; I've already seen too much of you this year, and I'd prefer not to have to treat you for something stupid like lack of sleep! Get a few early nights, and make sure you keep eating properly. I don't want to see you until your next check up, do you understand?" Harry nodded mutely. "Good. Well, goodbye Mr Potter, Headmaster." And she walked out of the office, Dumbledore holding the door for her.

"Ah, dear Madame Pomfrey. A lovely woman you know Harry, but she can be dreadfully short-tempered with those who don't take care of themselves properly. A word to the wise my boy; treat her services with respect, and she will be one of the best friends you can ask for. Now, your test results." Dumbledore moved back behind his desk, and Harry leaned forward in anticipation.

"Now, as you know, the Healer's and I believe that the barrier on your magic will slowly break down over time. I am delighted to report that our thesis was accurate." Harry sank back, a jolt of happiness shooting through him.

"The break down is admittedly small, barely noticeable, but there is a reduction. It would seem that you will one day have full access to your magic. Now, I make no claim that this will be anything other than a slow process, but since it is occurring naturally, it would seem foolish to try and force it by artificial means. I hope you understand this Harry."

"Oh yes sir. To be honest, I'm not looking forward to having more magic. I can't always control it now, what's going to happen as I get more powerful?" Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

"Well… You will have more magic at your disposal, so I suppose if you do lose control then the results will be more spectacular than they have been, although frankly I think you will find it hard to top knocking out a troll! But do not forgot Harry, the end result will be that you will not lose control at all, as you will have full control over your magic. I assure you, the short term problems are far outweighed by the long term benefits."

Harry gave a weak smile. "I suppose so… How powerful do you think I'll be sir?"

"It is impossible to gauge the strength of your dormant magic Harry, so I cannot give you a definitive answer. But as I have said on other occasions, you are already a wizard of significant power. I believe that your magic could well be awe-inspiring once it has fully matured." Harry frowned.

"Is something wrong my boy?"

"Well… I keep hearing about wizards and witched who get too powerful, who start abusing their power. I'm a little worried that might happen to me. And you never fully explained how my magic was being blocked, what if my magic's been tainted by Voldemort's? Anything could happen!" Dumbledore smiled kindly, his eyes twinkling.

"My dear boy, it is not solely powerful magic that makes people turn to the Dark! If you will forgive the gross arrogance, I am a rather powerful wizard myself, and I would hope that no-one would call me a Dark wizard! You need to have a specific temperament, and the fact that you are worried about this outcome clearly shows that you do not have that temperament. I highly doubt you will become a Dark wizard Harry, you should hold no worries on that score."

"And what about the other possibility? Could my magic have been tainted?" Green eyes met blue, as Dumbledore looked at Harry inquisitively.

"Does your magic ever feel as if it has been tainted Harry? It does not seem so to me, but you do of course know your own magic better than I ever can."

"I… can't quite explain how my magic feels sir. But it always feels good, it always feels, I dunno, happy I guess."

"Well then, I think we can safely assume that your magic is just that; your magic, with no taint from anyone else's." Harry sighed in relief, drawing a frown from Dumbledore. "Are you sure you are all right Harry? You do seem a little…distracted shall we say?"

"Oh, sorry sir, I was just, you know, thinking about things." The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes increased, and now it did not look quite so jolly.

"If there is anything you wish to tell me Harry, then feel free to do so, in the strictest confidence naturally."

"Oh no sir. I'm fine. Really."

* * *

Harry rolled over again. He had been trying to do as Madame Pomfrey had instructed, but sleep just would not come. Every time he shut his eyes, the image of his parents, smiling and waving at him would float up in his minds eye, calling to him. Now that he didn't feel the need to worry about whether his magic was dangerous, he could devote even more of his time to pondering the strange Mirror. Despite the possible dangers of the Mirror, quite apart from the risk of being found by Filch or some other member of staff, he found himself unable to resist the urge to leave the dormitory and return to the Mirror again. 

Harry slipped quietly out of bed, taking some clothes with him to the bathroom, where he quickly changed. Now ready for a night time walk, he descended to the common room. It was still fairly early, only a couple of hours after curfew, but the common room was thankfully deserted. Harry opened the portrait door, checking for Filch or Mrs Norris before he dropped through, ignoring the Fat Lady's recriminations. He set off down the stairs, but had not gone more than a few paces before someone grabbed him by the shoulder. He spun round, to be met with the pleading face of Hermione. She mouthed something at him.

"What? Hermione, you're not making any noise, what do you want?" She glared at him, and pointed at her throat with her wand, mouthing again. "You want me to what?" Hermione rolled her eyes, and pulled some parchment out of her bag, writing down _Cast 'Finite Incantatem' on me!_ This rather confused Harry, but he dutifully drew his wand and cast the spell on her.

"Oh, thank you Harry! I've been sitting out here for hours! I was in the Library when that idiot Nott turned up. I left naturally, but he followed me, started going on about me being a know-it-all and talking too much, and he cast a spell on me that meant I couldn't speak! So then I couldn't get into the Common Room, because I couldn't give the Fat Lady the password. I was going to wait for someone to come along, but I must have fallen asleep. And what are you doing out this late anyway?"

"Oh… Well, I… I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd, you know, go for a walk, tire myself out, that kind of thing."

"But Harry you can't! It's after curfew, you'll get into trouble! Come on, let's just get to bed. Oh…" As Hermione had spoken, she had been walking back to the portrait, but the Fat Lady was no longer there, having apparently gone for a night time wander herself. She turned back to Harry, but he was already on his way down the stairs. Muttering to herself, she ran after him. "Harry, come back here, you'll get us into trouble!"

"I'm going to get us into trouble? You're the one who's shouting! If you don't want to stay there fine, but if you're coming with me then keep quiet! I don't particularly want to run into Filch you know." Hermione glared at him, but kept quiet.

Harry was tempted to go to the Mirror via the passageway he had discovered the first night he went wandering, just to see how Hermione would cope with the sudden drop, but common sense prevailed, and he went the easier route, Hermione following him nervously. As Harry turned away from the Grand Staircase to follow the corridors to the room with the Mirror Hermione grabbed his shoulder again.

"Where are you going?" she hissed. "This isn't just an aimless stroll is it, you've been here before!"

"I couldn't sleep a few nights ago, so I was going to go to the library, and try and find some stuff on blocked magical cores. I ended up having to hide from Filch and Snape, and I found this… well, it looks like a mirror, but it doesn't seem to work like one. You'd find it fascinating, really."

"Harry, we can't be out after curfew looking at some stupid mirror! Come back to the Common room, the Fat Lady must be back by now, oh Harry!" But he had already walked off into the dark corridor, visible only by the light of his wand. Now starting to panic, Hermione held back briefly, before running after him, muttering '_Lumos'_ to light her own wand as she did so. Harry grinned at her as she caught up with him, earning himself a nasty look and a painful smack on the back of his head.

A few minutes walk brought them to the abandoned classroom that housed the Mirror. Harry carefully pushed open the door, and walked straight to the Mirror in the middle of the room, not even bothering to check that the room was empty. As he approached the Mirror, his parents appeared in it, smiling and waving at him, and a large grin broke out over his own face as he sat down in front of it.

Hermione was still by the door, nervously watching for Mrs Norris, or the sound of Filch's old bones cracking and echoing down the corridor. She looked over in astonishment at the sight of her friend apparently grinning in pleasure at the sight of his reflection.

"Harry! If you want to admire yourself why don't you do it back in the dorm?"

"I'm not looking at myself Hermione! Can't you see them?"

"See who? You're the only one in there Harry."

"Come here, have a closer look." Glaring at him, Hermione walked over to the Mirror, and gasped, before spinning around, her wand raised.

"Where is he?"

"What do you mean where's 'he'? There are two people, my parents!"

"Don't be ridiculous Harry, the only person in that Mirror is Theodore Nott, and God only knows why he's been jinxed and left here to suffer. Where is he, I could see him in the Mirror! Hang on… Your parents? Harry they're… well, they're dead. They can't be here."

"I'm well aware of that actually Hermione, I doubt Nott's really here either. I don't really know what this Mirror does, but it doesn't show reality."

"Excellently deduced Mr Potter." The two children spun round in shock, as with a rustling noise, the Headmaster revealed himself. Hermione stared at him in terror, only vaguely hearing Harry swear under his breath.

"Headmaster, we're really sorry, but we couldn't get back into the common room and -"

"Please don't worry Miss Granger. No harm has been done, and I am the last person to penalise people for their curiosity. Where would humanity be without it after all? I wonder however, if you can take your questions to their conclusion?" Dumbledore smiled gently as Harry and Hermione looked at each other, bewilderment and a certain amount of hope plastered over their faces. Then Hermione turned to look at the Mirror. She walked all around it, several times, tapping it gently, before returning to stand in front of it, a puzzled look on her face. Then she raised her head to look at the inscription.

"Well, that isn't Latin… and it isn't any other language I recognise. Professor?"

"It is English Miss Granger – although mirrored, you could say." A gleam of realisation appeared in Hermione's eyes, and she began to write out the letters in mid-air with her wand, in bright fiery letters.

"I… show not… your face… but your heart's desire. Your heart's desire – it's showing us what we want most in the world?"

"Excellent Miss Granger, take a point for Gryffindor! This is the Mirror of Erised, a very powerful and rather dangerous magical object. Men have wasted away in front of it, shunning food and drink for the simple pleasure of seeing all their dreams come true. They are the lucky ones. Those that the Mirror has most effect on go mad, and try to work complex magics to get into the Mirror itself, believing they are being shown some sort of parallel dimension, and that if they can break through then the image will become real. The Mirror feeds on your soul, but it is also happy to consume your body."

"I've been staring at it for a week now" whispered Harry. Dumbledore looked at him, a gentle smile on his lips.

"I should not be to concerned Harry. You are lucky enough to have discovered the Mirror while also having something else fairly important to occupy your mind. I suspect that the more immediate concerns about the state of your magical core will have provided something of a defence against the Mirror's magic. However, I would caution you not to come back here, either of you. The Mirror is to be moved to a new location very soon anyway, somewhere you will certainly not be able to find it. I urge you to forget about it Harry."

"I'm not an idiot sir; I'm not coming back to look for something that wants my soul!" Harry blushed as he realised precisely what he had just said to his Headmaster, but Dumbledore merely smiled.

"Excellent Harry! And now I suspect we would all benefit from a good nights rest. Oh, actually Harry, before you go…" He turned back to the desk he had been sitting on when Harry and Hermione had arrived, and picked up a large, silvery cloak that looked as if it would easily cover several people at a time. "Do you know what this is Harry?"

"Well, we couldn't see you when we came in, so… an Invisibility Cloak?"

"Quite right Harry – specifically, your Invisibility Cloak. It belonged to your father, and has in fact belonged to the Potter family for many generations. He lent it to me before he died so that I could study it – I believe it to be a unique kind of Invisibility Cloak, far removed from the more common kind – and I must admit that I rather forgot that I had it. This seems a good opportunity to return it to you. Of course, I must warn you that using it in any further illicit wanderings would be strongly frowned upon." This last was said with an almost dazzling twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes, and his beard twitched, as if he was suppressing a grin.

"Of course sir. I've learnt my lesson" Harry said, equally straight faced.

"Excellent! And now, good night Harry, Miss Granger." And with that, Dumbledore swept out of the room. Harry and Hermione looked at each other, before Harry whirled the Cloak around him. Hermione gasped as he disappeared from view entirely.

"Harry! Oh Merlin, that's amazing!" Harry's head appeared in front of her, grinning broadly as he looked down, apparently at thin air.

"I think I might be able to have a lot of fun with this Hermione… Come on, lets get back. I don't want to be around that thing anymore than I have to now! Oh… and it shows our heart's desire right?

"That seems to be the general idea, yes. Why?"

"Theodore Nott?" Hermione blushed.

"Not like that! He was winding me up and he jinxed me if you recall! I want nothing more at the moment than to see him suffer! You're a disgusting, silly little boy sometimes Harry James Potter! STOP SNIGGERING!"

* * *

As always, reviews are welcome. And what did people think of book 7? 


	10. Interlude: A Fluffy Christmas

A/N: Just a short one this, although longer than my original plan, which was basically a letter detailing the second scene. Still, not quite long enough to qualify as a proper chapter in my view. Hopefully you'll all enjoy it though.

**Interlude: A Fluffy Christmas**

_Privet Drive, Christmas Holidays_

"So, you've had a pretty eventful term all in all then?" Dudley and Harry were sitting in Dudley's room at Privet Drive, catching up on what they had really been doing over the last few months, having already heard each others 'official' versions for Petunia and Vernon. Needless to say, Harry's tale was rather more exciting, including as it did sinister staff members, troll attacks, vampiric mirrors and invisibility cloaks, and Dudley had expressed appropriate levels of shock and awe.

That said, Dudley seemed to have been having a great time at Smeltings, and it had been a shock for Harry to see him in uniform, Hogwarts beginning the term earlier than his cousins school. The rather strange uniform had drawn a fair amount of mockery from Harry, until his cousin pointed out that his uniform essentially consisted of a kind of dress, and that Harry was not allowed to use magic outside school, whereas he, Dudley, was perfectly at liberty to use his Smeltings stick as he pleased. Strangely, this had brought the mockery to a swift conclusion.

"Eventful covers it pretty well I think. It's certainly a bit more than I was expecting. I mean, other than the subject matter, Hogwarts is basically a normal school."

"With ghosts, hidden passages, living portraits and suits of armour, in addition to God knows what else?"

"Well, ok, but you get my drift. It's all a little different isn't it?"

"That's certainly true. Now quit stalling Harry, let's have a look at this Cloak of yours!" Harry grinned. The Cloak had become his favourite possession, almost over night, as he wandered around the school in complete security. Mrs Norris seemed to be able to smell him, but that was fine, since Filch couldn't see him if he did show up. While he hadn't returned to the Mirror since he and Hermione had met Dumbledore there, he had been round quite a bit of the school in the weeks since acquiring the Cloak. Now, after checking that the door was locked, he whipped the Cloak out of his pocket, and hung it over his shoulders, disappearing totally. Dudley let out an admiring whistle. "Oh wow! That's brilliant Harry! Come on, let me have a go!"

Harry handed over the Cloak, and watched his cousin disappear under the silvery fabric. There was a rustle, and Dudley's head appeared in mid-air, looking down at where his body should have been. "This is so weird… How does it work?"

"Haven't a clue. Even Dumbledore said he couldn't work it out, so I think I'll leave it for now certainly. So long as it carries on working, I'll be ok with it."

"I guess. How'd the others take it?"

"Neville loved it, kept wanting to come with me, slipped it on whenever he could, just to watch himself disappear in the mirror. The twins were practically begging me to lend it to them for pranks, which obviously I would _never _agree to... Hermione - "

"Hermione?"

"You know, I told you about her, Muggleborn girl, very bright, the one I went up against a troll with. Anyway, she was desperate to get it in a quiet corner to study it, but again, I pointed out Dumbledore hadn't been able to find out anything, so she didn't have a chance. She didn't much like me running around the castle with it though…

"And Ron?" Harry slumped back.

"You know what Ron's like. He clearly loved it, but he was just as clearly jealous. Refuses to use it, says he doesn't want to damage it. He's got worse since we started, he hates the way that everyone stares at me – not that I'm too fond of it myself – and, well, he's never been the brightest…"

"Not a lot you can do about it is there? Don't worry about it Harry, he always calms down eventually." Harry nodded.

"I guess. So," he said, clapping his hands together, "What did you get me for Christmas?" Dudley rolled his eyes.

"Like I'm going to tell you, you greedy git. Anyway, you didn't tell me about Flamel. Who is he?"

"Dunno. I'm sure I've seen his name somewhere, but we couldn't find anything in the library. Neville and Ron were sticking around over Christmas though, they said they'd let me know if they found anything. Although I highly doubt they'll really want to go anywhere near the library over the holidays…"

s/b

As a matter of fact, by Christmas Ron and Neville were spending a great deal of time in the Library, attempting to research the mysterious Flamel. It was true that they would rather have been doing other things, but without Harry and Hermione, they had something of a problem; namely, Fred and George. The twin pranksters were in their element in the run up to Christmas, and of course, it being the holidays, there were far fewer targets for their practical jokes. Ron and Neville didn't especially mind this, and were more than ready to retaliate, but neither of them had the imagination or knowledge to appropriately combat two pranksters whose magic was barely under control under the best of circumstances. Hermione was a wealth of information regarding useful spells, and Harry's imagination, combined with his talent for transfiguration, had proved a marvellous deterrent. In their absence however, the library had become a kind of refuge for them.

Of course, this was not a wholly satisfactory way of spending their holiday, especially since there seemed to be absolutely nothing about Flamel in any of the seemingly limitless quantity of the books, and their research sessions frequently dissolved into quiet discussions about Quidditch, before they almost willingly returned to the twin's mayhem, simply for something more interesting to do. However, there had been one hugely interesting incident, in Ron's eyes at least.

Severus Snape had been injured.

To Ron's disappointment, they hadn't actually seen this happen. However, returning to the Common Room after some intense research into Flamel, they had – as still occasionally happened in the vast castle – wandered off their intended path and ended up at the Staff Room. While this would normally have been nothing more than a minor annoyance, as they were walking down the corridor to the Grand Staircase, there had come from inside the staff room a loud cry of pain. Creeping back to the door, which was fortuitously slightly ajar, they had been treated to a rather shocking sight.

Snape had been standing in the middle of the room, with his left leg up on the table, his robes parted to reveal his leg, which was pallid and skinny. Ron had later put forward the opinion that this would have been enough to traumatise any right thinking person, but worse even than the sight of Snape's naked leg was the vicious wound in his calf. It looked as if someone, or more likely given the size of the wound, something, had picked Snape up by the leg in its jaws, before shaking him around. There was a terrible amount of blood. Filch was cleaning the wound, and had obviously just pressed down too hard, causing Snape to cry out.

"Blast it Filch, be a little more careful dammit!"

"Sorry sir, sorry, but it's goin' to hurt whatever I do; it's a vicious brute sir."

"Really? How very perspicacious of you! I had in fact spotted that for myself Filch. It was the way it nearly bit my leg off that really confirmed it for me. Any other pearls of wisdom?" Filch frowned at this.

"No need to be rude sir, just explaining things, just doing my job."

"Yes yes, I know; just get on with it. Merlin… I must be a fool to keep trying to get past that beast Filch, there must be someone better suited to the task; I'm a potions master, not a thief! This had better be worth all the hassle. And Fluffy… honestly, if ever proof were needed that Hagrid's not all there, calling a Cerberus 'Fluffy'!"

"I'm sure it will be worth it sir. Must be important if the Headmaster wants that much protection around it. And Hagrid… well, he's not like most folk is he sir?" Snape grunted. Taking his eyes off the wound, as if it disgusted him, he looked towards the door.

"WEASLEY! GET OUT OF HERE BOY!" Ron gasped, and ran as if Fluffy itself was after him, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. Neville, who had been obscured behind the door frame, left a little more discreetly, but just as quickly. This was definite progress.

s/b

"… _So you see Harry, I was right! Snape really is an evil little git! Even you've got to admit it now._

_Hope you're having a great Christmas_

_Ron (and Neville says hi as well)_

Harry rolled up the letter thoughtfully. It did seem as if Ron was right; he had seen Snape outside the third floor corridor himself, and here was actual evidence that he had at some point over Christmas tried to get past the unaccountably named Fluffy. On the other hand, Dumbledore trusted him completely by all accounts, which had to count for something.

Maybe that was misleading though; Dumbledore's trust in Snape was based on him no longer being a Death Eater, or involved in similar activities. However, the Death Eaters hadn't been particularly noted for theft; not many of them needed to steal, the Death Eaters having been made up largely of rich Purebloods. Maybe Dumbledore had never bothered to check up on whether Snape might be tempted towards theft if given the opportunity and a decent prize for the effort, and whatever the Stone was, it must be very important to merit a Cerberus and other barriers.

It would be helpful if they knew more about the object being guarded, but only knowing that it was considered a stone was not all that helpful; there were thousands of famous stones in magical history, so narrowing it down to one stone connected to one wizard – and to do this in secret during their spare time – was nigh on impossible on the information they had.

Harry frowned. Away from Hogwarts, with the air of secrecy that seemed to be as much a part of the castle as the stone it was made from, the sense of urgency to discover the truth was waning; he just wanted to relax in the company of his family. Maybe when he returned to Hogwarts so would the compulsion to discover the truth, but it had really been an intellectual exercise; could they find out what was being hidden, and maybe find out who the potential thief was? He had never really been that worried about it, given the level of protection around it – and it had been nearly two months since he heard Snape complain about Dumbledore not having put up his protection, so surely the stone was even safer now; he had his suspicions about the presence of the Mirror of Erised, which must surely have been there for a reason. The fact that Snape seemed the most likely candidate for the thief was a little worrisome – not to say surprising – but again, given the level of protection, still hardly cause for alarm.

Considering this for a while, Harry eventually scribbled a quick reply to his two friends, expressing interest and concern, but also telling them to just take it easy and enjoy their holidays. Having sent this off with Hedwig, he hurried back downstairs to his family.

A/N: Reviews are, as always, welcome! Not much more to go either; five chapters at most, so that should all be done fairly soon hopefully.


	11. A Walk in the Forest

A/N: A nice long one for you to make up for last time. Hope you enjoy it!

**Chapter 10: A Walk In The Forest**

It was now March, with only a few weeks to go until the Easter holidays, and Harry considered the term well spent, all things considered. True, they had found out nothing more about the mysterious Flamel, or the exact nature of the stone that was being hidden on the third floor, but it seemed that nothing was happening regarding a possible attempt at theft; consequentially, the apathy that had washed over Harry regarding the stone over the holidays had now spread to the others. Ron had threatened to hex anyone who mentioned Flamel or stones in his hearing for the rest of the year, Neville flatly refused to do any more research, and even Hermione, who seemed to have made the library her second home, had stopped searching with quite the same fervour. Her chosen 'light reading' was still the heavy variety of academic tome, so there was still a chance of an accidental discovery, but by and large, they had put the matter to the back of their minds, awaiting further developments, of which there had only been one since the beginning of term.

* * *

_January, first week of term:_

The Gryffindor and Slytherin students had been waiting in the dungeon classroom for Professor Snape, mentally preparing themselves, after the long holiday, for Snape's customary entrance – the door slamming, followed by a rapid walk to the front of the room, robes billowing like dark wings, before turning to them, his ugly face illuminated from below by the glow of whatever potion he happened to be brewing at the time as he sneered at them.

This time, there was a significant difference.

The door had slammed shut as usual, and every student in the room had sat bolt upright, eyes forward and lips sealed, expecting Snape to stride briskly to the front as usual. Instead, he had, rather slowly, limped to the front of the dungeon, clearly favouring his right leg. Those students unlucky enough to have aisle seats leaned away as he passed, noses wrinkling as if for some reason the Potions Master had contrived to make his body odour even worse than it usually was. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville exchanged glances; clearly, Snape's wound was still affecting him, and seemed to have somehow become infected. This was fairly understandable. Cerberus' were rare creatures, and even Hagrid would be hard pressed to have treatment for wounds inflicted by one easily available, and it's dental hygiene would be rather suspect in any case.

Despite the academic curiosity of what had caused the infection in Snape's leg, the incident would have passed with little more interest than was traditionally afforded to student gossip, had Harry not raised his hand as Snape reached the front desk. Snape glared at him, somehow managing to raise an even greater level of hatred from somewhere within his body and project it all into his expression.

"Well Potter? What do you want?"

"Oh, well sir, I was just wondering… What have you done to your leg?" Ron snorted, and Snape's expression, amazingly, darkened even further.

"That is none of your business Potter. Detention for breath-taking impertinence, and 5 points from Gryffindor. Your father would be so proud you are following in his noble traditions. Weasley, same for you, although I think we can stretch to two nights detention for you. Now, the Dreamless Sleep potion…"

Harry sat back, frowning. The detention didn't particularly bother him, it had been worth it to see the look on Snape's face, and he was confident that he would earn at least double the points he had lost with his Transfiguration project, but the remark about his father had stung. He was well aware of the animosity between his father and Snape, and indeed between Snape and Sirius, and to a lesser extent Remus and Peter, and he was well aware of the reasons behind that animosity; the idea he sometimes acted like his father upset him, even if the accusation did come from someone as clearly biased as Snape. Still, Neville and Ron could be relied upon – hopefully – to tell him if he did start drifting into that kind of behaviour, and he had a long way to go before he was hexing people because he didn't like the colour of their robes.

Coming back to the present, Harry noticed Draco trying to catch his eye. As he met the blonde's gaze, Draco inclined his head towards Snape, a curious expression on his face. Harry mouthed_ "Later" _at him, before turning his attention to the potion he was supposed to be brewing.

* * *

Harry winced at the latter part of that memory; when they had explained everything to Draco (Ron having made an unusually sensible exit, to avoid arguments), the Slytherin had been far from impressed. Harry supposed he really should have remembered that Snape was Draco's godfather before going into detail about their suspicions regarding his character. He, Hermione and Neville had eventually retreated under the barrage of jinxes and swearing, and Draco had been somewhat aloof around them for several weeks.

However, arguments and the occasional snide remark directed at Snape aside (which he always heard somehow; never mind looking like one, he definitely had the ears of a bat), the term had been an excellent one thus far.

Flying lessons, which had now finished so that the students could concentrate on more 'useful' subjects (a notion which offended Harry and Ron greatly), had become much more fun since Madame Hooch had seen him flying on a Saturday afternoon; after yelling herself hoarse for trying the kinds of stunts he had been, she had dragged him to a fifth year named Oliver Wood, telling him that Harry would be on the Gryffindor Quidditch in whatever position was free, and lessons since then had featured an advanced group for the better flyers – the one advanced group Hermione could never be entered in, much to her annoyance.

Transfiguration was still easily Harry's best subject, now even outstripping Hermione – an event which, when made public knowledge, had inspired the twins to hold a ceremony in the common room, passing on the 'patented Percy Weasley know-it-all chain of office' to Harry. The chain had been made up of little books, which had been charmed to open at random and shout "Extreme Know-It-All" in a helium voice; strangely, Harry (and Percy it had to be said) was the only person who didn't find the whole thing side-splittingly funny, although he could at least admit that it was a brilliant piece of magic.

Best of all, in Harry's view, was the decline in interest in him. At the beginning of the year, large groups of people kept popping up to stare at his scar and whisper about him. Meals had been awful, a whole room full of people waiting to see him do something interesting and heroic. As the year went on, it had become increasingly obvious (well, apart from the troll incident, and that was hardly Harry's fault) that he was depressingly normal, and now he was just part of the background, just another student, albeit with an unusual facial deformity.

Of course, History of Magic and Defence against the Dark Arts were still unworthy of the name 'lessons', but Harry was still happy to study those subjects in his spare time. Speaking of Quirrell… The man was looking curiously worried these days. His hair had a distinctly rumpled look to it, as if he spent a lot of time running his hands through it in frustration, and he was often to be seen sweating, and darting looks into dark corners. His reaction to the troll at Halloween had cemented the idea of him as a coward, and people – the twins especially – had taken to gasping in mock horror and pointing at the 'horrible creature' behind him, before running away sniggering as he turned round, cowering. Merlin knew what he was so scared of, but it was certainly having an effect on him.

Anyway. Enough mindless ponderings – he needed to find something to do. Hermione was frantically trying to fit in everything the Library had on sleeping potions for her essay, which would inevitably result in a poor grade and derision from Snape, but she flat-out refused to adopt the other, rather more popular method for Potions homework, namely scribbling just enough accurate information to scrape a pass. Neville was messing around in the greenhouses, and Ron was in a rare detention with Flitwick; the kindly old man's patience had been pushed to the limit by Ron's inaccurate levitation charm in a revision session, which had nearly sent the Charms professor through the ceiling. Draco was returning to his normal manner now, although it had to be said that that was still far from warm and friendly, and besides, he would be closeted in the Slytherin common room with the other snakes.

A grin spread across Harry's face. It had been a while – too long – since he had been to see Hagrid. The groundskeeper could always be relied upon for a friendly chat and a cup of tea, and usually rock hard cakes, which could be taken for skimming in the lake later in the day.

As Harry meandered down the Grand Staircase he noticed, a couple of floors below him, the rather strange boy who had recognised him on the train at the start of the year… _What was his name again? Smith, that was it, Zacharias Smith._ He hadn't seen the boy since, that he was aware of at any rate, and he would have ignored him on this occasion were it not for the fact that he was just sitting there, staring at the wall. There was no portrait on the particular section of wall he was gazing at, a rare blank space, but Smith seemed devoted to it. As Harry stepped off the staircase onto the landing, the pale Hufflepuff swivelled his head round, as if on a pivot, to look at Harry.

"Hello Harry Potter."

"Umm… Hi. Are… Are you ok?" The boy nodded.

"I am fine thank you." The boy's silvery, rather large eyes were holding Harry quite still; he had an uncomfortable idea that he would be unable to move if he tried.

"Be careful Harry Potter." This caused Harry to raise his eyebrows incredulously; it wasn't everyday someone he barely knew stopped him to give him warnings… or was it a threat?

"And why do I need to be careful? I'm not in the habit of doing dangerous stuff you know... Well, not a regular habit anyway…"

"I'm sure you are not. But they are."

"And just who might 'they' be?" Smith smiled gently.

"That is not for you to know at this time Harry Potter. Just… Be careful. Farewell Harry Potter." With that, he picked up his bag and turned to leave. Released from whatever had been holding him still, Harry almost stumbled backwards.

"Hey, what do you mean it's not… Oi! Come back here - " But Smith had already disappeared down another corridor. Still stood on the landing, it suddenly came to Harry that he could move, and he ran to the corridor Smith had disappeared down. It was empty. And even if Smith had been running, there was no way he could have reached the other end of the corridor in the time he had had. Harry stared down the corridor blankly, before shaking his head in bemusement. "You don't have to be seriously weird to study here but…"

Carrying on down the staircase, he mulled over Smith's warning, or possible threat. The only people he knew of who might want to hurt him were any uncaptured Death Eaters; nobody was really certain how many had bought their way out of Azkaban, or how many had just simply never been found. It was however fairly certain that there were still a few out there; for instance, the spy who had betrayed his parents and Sirius to Voldemort had never really been uncovered, although it was most likely to have been Caradoc Dearborn – he had been the Longbottom's Secret Keeper, and had not been seen in years, widely believed to have gone into hiding after betraying both families to their fates. But Smith was eleven years old, and if Harry remembered correctly, the Smith's were a Light Pureblood family, so devoted to their beliefs that they wouldn't even defend themselves against attackers; it was extremely unlikely that he or his family were in contact with former Death Eaters. Other than that, Harry could think of no-one who might want to hurt him. Oh, there were people who didn't particularly like him, for one reason or another, but that was just ordinary unpleasantness, not a desire to harm. And he could think of no other reason why Smith might tell him to 'Be careful'. Of course, he was the product of a very old Pureblood family; if rumours of Pureblood inbreeding were true than that would explain a lot of things about a lot of people…

Still pondering the strange encounter, Harry wandered down through the stone circle to Hagrid's hut. He was about to knock on the door when he heard voices from inside. It was Professor Quirrell and Hagrid.

"No really H-H-Hagrid, I assure you I'm s-simply f-f-fascinated by the beast. He must be the v-v-very d-devil to c-cont-trol."

"Nah, Fluffy's ok, just likes a bit o' music now and again. Gotta be good music mind, he knows what he likes. And nothin' too modern, just annoys him, makes him angry. But you get a violin goin' or a decent singer, an' he's gentle as a lamb. Dunno why the Ministry's so down on 'em really…"

"Ah well H-H-Hagrid, you know as well as anyone the inco-inco-incompetence of the M-M-Minstry… they fear anything even m-mildly d-d-dark.

"True, I suppose so. Still, it's great to see ya takin' an interest Professor, it really is! Ain't many of the staff really unnerstand magical creatures, think takin' care of 'em's just like herdin' cattle!"

"I can see that would u-upset you my dear fellow. But I'm afraid I m-must be g-going, I do have a l-lot of w-w-work to do. P-perhaps we could c-carry on this discussion an-another time?"

"Be happy to Professor, here, let me get the door for ya…" And Hagrid opened the door right in Harry's face, knocking him over.

"P-Potter! What are you d-doing?" Harry frantically scrabbled to stand up; he could be in real trouble here.

"I… I was just coming to see Hagrid sir, I, well, we've known each other for a while and I sometimes - " Quirrell's eyes narrowed; once again, Harry could see that strange look in his eye.

"Don't lie to m-me P-Potter, you were k-kneeling down! Eavesdropping! D-d-detention Potter, f-Friday evening."

"Oh come on now Professor, Harry didn' mean any 'arm by it didja Harry? He's a curious lad, an' ya said yerself that Fluffy was fascinatin'!"

"I s-suppose that is t-true… N-nevertheless, we can't have this k-kind of thing Hagrid, an ex-example must be made. But I s-suppose I can leave that in your c-capable hands H-Hagrid. T-think up something s-suitable and let me k-know when and w-where. And d-don't let me catch you misbehaving again P-Potter!" And with that, Quirrell strode off, Hagrid and Harry looking after him.

"Blimey 'Arry, never seen 'im like that before! Usually as mild as anythin'! Ah well, I'm sure I can cook up summat fun for your detention, how's about that then?" Harry looked at him.

"I don't really think you get the idea of detention Hagrid, but believe me, I'm not complaining!"

* * *

Later in the day, Harry was telling his friends about the incident over dinner; they had all agreed that it was most unlike the timid Defence teacher to raise his voice, let alone hand out a detention. Ron was rather impressed, being of the opinion that the twins had finally achieved their aim of driving a teacher mad. Hermione however, had a rather more startling suggestion.

"What if it wasn't just curiosity Harry? We know Fluffy's guarding something; what if _Quirrell's _the one who wants to steal it, and Snape's just, I don't know, making sure the protections are still working or something?" Harry snorted in amusement.

"You have met Quirrell haven't you Hermione? Ok, he might be able to get past Fluffy, but I can't see him being up to the other protections on the thing – if Fluffy's stage one, I'd hate to see what the others are, they must be horrible! Quirrell couldn't defend himself against a stiff breeze, let alone magical defences."

"He could be pretending!"

"Hermione, if he's that good an actor, he's in the wrong business. Trust me, Quirrell's worse than useless."

"Hm!" Hermione tossed her head back in disgust, before turning away from them to concentrate on her dinner. Harry, Ron and Neville continued to mutter about the unusual incident in hushed tones, until they were interrupted by the arrival of Quirrell himself.

"P-Potter, you will be s-serving your d-det-detention with Hagrid on Friday night, at 8.30. He will be t-taking you into the F-Forest, so wrap up w-warm won't you? And do be c-careful…" Harry stared at him as he walked back to the staff table.

"The Forest! He said he'd think up something fun! Merlin… what's he playing at? Too right I'll be careful. Hang on… Be careful… That's something else I didn't tell you guys; you know Zacharias Smith? He's in Hufflepuff. The one who was being weird on the train back in September, bit pale, funny looking. Don't worry Hermione, you weren't there, you wouldn't remember it." Ron looked typically bemused, although Neville nodded cautiously.

"Well, it was when I was going down to see Hagrid; I saw Smith just sitting on the stairs, staring at the wall, like it was something really important. Not a portrait, just a bare bit of stone. Anyway, when I got down to his level, he just looked at me, and just told me to be careful!"

"Well if you will go walking all over people…" Harry glared at Ron.

"I didn't walk over him you prat, he just told me to be careful. Told me that 'they' were in the habit of doing dangerous stuff. Didn't bother to specify who 'they' were of course…"

Neville raised an eyebrow. "He was threatening you? Doesn't seem the type…" Harry shrugged.

"Threatening me, warning me, I dunno what he wanted. It was seriously weird though. And then he walked off and apparently vanished into thin air, like he's got a Cloak like mine. Like I say, weird."

"But that doesn't make sense. We'd have heard about any bullies by now, directly or indirectly, so you can't be someone's new target. And who else would want to hurt you?" Rather than worrying about the statement 'Be careful' itself, Hermione seemed more worried about the logic behind it, a fact in itself rather worrisome in Harry's view.

"The only possibility I can come up with is former Death Eaters, but that doesn't make sense either; they've never tried to attack me before, well, they can't when I'm at home, and Voldemort – please stop whining Ron – Voldemort himself didn't try and take on Dumbledore, so an out of practice Death Eater wouldn't, they'd have to be mad."

Neville smiled thinly. "So what's the conclusion Sherlock?"

"Basically, if Smith's telling the truth about someone wanting to hurt me – whatever his motive – I need to keep an eye out. If he isn't, then he's just crazy. Either way, a little caution never hurt anyone right?" The others nodded cautiously, Hermione still looking annoyed at the illogical qualities of daily life at Hogwarts. Suddenly Ron smiled.

"Well, you are going into the Forest; maybe this Smith bloke's a Seer, and was warning you about that? What, I'm just saying, no need to look like that…"

* * *

_Friday evening_

"Come on boy, shift yourself! And don't look at me like that you little toe-rag, it's your fault you're here, should 'ave thought about that before you went poking your ugly little nose in shouldn't ya! Heh, well, the Forest'll soon straighten you out lad, oh yes, you're going to have a… memorable time in there and no mistake!"

Harry glared at the odious caretakers back in disgust; he couldn't believe that Dumbledore would employ such a man. On the other hand, Dumbledore actually seemed to _like _Snape, not just tolerate him… But gloating about a student – a first year at that! – going into possible danger… There was no excuse for that. He had a sneaking suspicion even Snape would have refrained from showing pleasure at the thought of a student being subjected to danger. Felt it maybe, but showed it, never. Filch was actually chuckling to himself now! Harry was slightly comforted by the fact that he was with Hagrid; he knew the man would never knowingly put him, or anyone for that matter, in danger, it was just that he had a rather strange idea of what danger was…

Speaking of Hagrid… Harry could see a lantern not too far away now, and there was a dog barking – Fang presumably. Mrs Norris turned tail and fled at the sound.

"Come on Filch! Haven' got all evenin' you know! Need ta be underway if he's ta get any sleep at all."

"All right, all right, just making sure he understands the lesson he should be learning Hagrid…" The enormous man frowned.

"Gloatin' and generally makin' a nuisance of yerself ya mean. Not your place to be rantin' at 'im, you just make sure he gets here all safe and sound like."

"Huh. Just so long as you don't go easy on him – he's no different to the other brats, no matter how many scars he's got!"

"Get outta here ya miserable old git!" Filch scowled at Hagrid, but seemed to decide pressing the matter might be a bad idea. He turned to head back to the castle, pausing only for one last jibe at Harry, with a cruel sneer;

"Have fun won't you…" Harry and Hagrid watched the caretaker slowly walk back up the hill to the castle; as soon as he was out of sight, bar the light from the lantern he was carrying, Hagrid turned and looked down at Harry, an excited expression just visible behind his beard.

"Now then, you ready for off? Got summat real special in mind for ya, real special. There's not many people who've seen 'em before around here, real rare they are. Come on, let's get goin'!" And before Harry had a chance to collect his thoughts, Hagrid was striding off towards the Forbidden Forest, Fang running at his heels.

"Hagrid! Hagrid, wait a minute! What… What are we actually going to be doing?" Hagrid turned back, a look of surprise spreading across his face.

"What's the matter Harry?"

"Well… It's the Forest!" Hagrid chuckled.

"Oh, don't worry yerself about that, you'll be fine, you'll be with me! Course, wouldn' recommend it by yerself, there's some nasty things in the Forest of an evening, but you stick with me and everything'll be jus' grand. And we ain't gonna be working Harry, got summat for ya to see…"

Mildly reassured by this – Harry was still well aware that whatever they were going to see could and likely would be a vicious predator – Harry set off after Hagrid, through a clearing at the edge of the trees, and onto the main path through the Forest.

As they walked along, Harry spent much of the journey staring at the trees, trying to work out why anyone would _want_ to come into the Forest; all the students were given a warning against it at the beginning of the year, although it seemed largely to be aimed at Fred and George, but Harry couldn't find anything remotely exciting or attractive to see. The trees were all gnarled, twisted into strange and unpleasant shapes that cast unnerving shadows when seen from the corner of your eye. Occasionally, a dark shape would dart through the trees, only just visible in the dim light of Hagrid's lantern and Harry's wand; the trees were too thick above their heads to allow in any moon light, closing over them as if reaching down to pluck them from the ground.

And Harry had an unpleasant feeling of being watched; the hairs on the back of his neck were beginning to stand on end. _It's ok, the reputations largely exaggeration; if there are werewolves in here, it's not a full moon. Centaurs won't hurt us if we don't hurt them. There can't be anything that dangerous in here, it's too close to the school, it's all just rumour…_ He moved closer to Hagrid and Fang anyway. Looking around him, he realised that the trees were now all around them. When they had entered the Forest, there had been vague attempts at order, with a neat line cut away for the path. Looking down, he realised that they weren't on the path anymore.

"Hagrid! Where… Where's the path? We've gone off the path!"

"Shush! Yes, I know we have – off the path's where all the best stuff is Harry! Don't worry; I know it doesn' look all that pretty, but you're gonna love it Harry, trust me! Not far to go now."

"But there's something out there, I can… feel it!"

"Harry, it's a forest, there's hundreds of little creatures out there! Come on, we're nearly there." And he set off again, Harry running to catch up.

A few more minutes walking, almost clinging to Hagrid, and Harry began to notice a warm, pale glow through the trees. He looked up at Hagrid curiously, but he only grinned and shook his head. They walked closer, when suddenly Hagrid stopped, motioning Harry to carry on alone. Harry crept forward, occasionally glancing backwards nervously, but Hagrid just kept smiling, repeating his gesture to move forward. The glow was becoming brighter and brighter, now recognizably silver as Harry reached the top of a slope, only to gasp in shock and delight.

The glow was coming from a herd of unicorns, mostly asleep. It was a large herd, roughly twenty of them, male, female and foal. From his position on top of the slope, Harry's face was bathed in the glow, and he could feel his magic stirring inside him, for the first time in his life, as if it was reacting to the purity of the creatures before him. He shifted slightly, to a more comfortable position, and froze as he snapped a twig. A male on the far side of the herd looked up, straight at his head, still clearly visible at the top of the slope. Harry could hear Hagrid calling him back, to hide, but he just couldn't understand why. It was perfectly obvious that the unicorn would no more hurt him than he would hurt the unicorn; it would be like asking him to hurt Dudley, something that would just never happen.

He stood up, and walked carefully down the slope, and stood there watching the unicorn as it picked its way gently through the rest of the herd, still asleep, and came to stand in front of Harry. It was taller than him, even without the foot long horn that Harry knew was perfectly capable of tearing him limb from limb so cleanly he wouldn't even feel it until the job had been done. A noise from the slope above startled the unicorn, and it took a step back, raising it's head to look at Hagrid, who was beckoning Harry frantically. Harry just smiled at him, before reaching out to the unicorn. It looked back at him, and Harry felt a similar sensation to his encounter with Smith earlier in the week; he did not think he could move. The unicorn took a step closer to him, and bowed its head, so the horn was resting on Harry's shoulder. An immense sense of warmth flooded Harry, stronger than any Cheering Charm, almost bringing him to his knees. His magic was even stronger in its response now, creating a slight breeze around him, picking up leaves and small twigs. He looked around him, and a change in the play of silvery light alerted him to something else; his eyes were glowing in response to the unicorn's pure Light magic, creating a sensation that echoed right down to his magical core.

As this happened, the unicorn raised its head slightly, as if it had heard some slight noise. It looked into his eyes again, before moving forward very slightly, so that its horn was just touching Harry's chest. It then bowed its head, dragging the horn down the front of Harry's robes. As it did so, the pleasurable sensation faded, making room for a painful headache. Clutching his head in pain and confusion, Harry realised that the unicorn had done something to the barrier of Dark magic around his magical core, something that would presumably benefit him. He reached his hand out slowly, stroking it gently. A silvery glow was left on his hand, although it faded as he watched.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." He whispered to the unicorn. To his utter astonishment, a voice echoed around his head, clearly not produced through vocal chords.

_It was my pleasure Mighty One, friend of my kind. Never forget the power of what has happened here little one, even though you have a dark and gloomy road ahead of you; my kind will always provide you with friendship and assistance._

Harry stared in bewilderment. Snakes were one thing, but unicorns? He was about to make some reply, but the unicorn had already turned around, and was trotting back to its sleeping space. Harry turned and walked back towards Hagrid, who was standing there looking as if the world had turned upside down before his eyes.

"Blimey Harry, that… that was beautiful! What was happenin'? I've never even heard o' that happenin' before! What did ya do?"

"I… I don't know. It just sort of – seemed right. I can't explain it Hagrid, I wouldn't even know where to begin. Let's just get back to the castle all right? I'll try and explain after I've had some sleep."

They made the long walk back to the castle in silence; as Harry looked around him the Forest, although seemingly unchanged, seemed a far more pleasant surrounding, warm and welcoming rather than sinister and terrifying. The residual warmth from the unicorn's magic put a smile on his face, and he suddenly realised that he was humming to himself. He stopped himself hurriedly, catching an amused glance from Hagrid; Harry flushed self consciously.

About halfway between the clearing where the unicorns had been sleeping and the edge of the Forest, there was a spot where there were far fewer trees on either side of the path, although still too many for the spot to actually be called a clearing. As they walked through it, Hagrid held up his hand, motioning Harry to stop.

"Hagrid? What's wrong?"

"Shush! Thought I heard summat… Like there's somthin' followin' us…"

All of Harry's earlier nervousness came flooding back to him. The unicorn's warmth seemed to drain out of him, and the trees, which had seemed straight and normal, now looked more warped and unnatural, as if a glamour had been withdrawn from his eyes. Looking through the sparse trees, he thought he saw something move; he raised his wand higher, the light coming from the tip of it piercing through the trees in front of him. The sight made him relax, the only thing moving being some late night mist, although naturally even that had a sinister shade to it, looking more like smoke than mist. Actually, now he thought about it, the mist was moving very fast, and in their direction…

"Hagrid! What's that - "

Before he could finish his question, the cloud of smoke had billowed through the trees and he had been snatched up in it, taken flying at great speed through the unnatural Forest. He could just hear Hagrid calling his name, and Fang barking loudly, but within seconds they were barely an echo. He had only been flying for maybe twenty seconds when he was thrown away from the cloud, landing on his back at the foot of an almost vertical slope. The cloud seemed to run up the side of the slope, as if taunting him with the fact that it would be impossible to climb. About halfway up, it flew backwards from the slope, shooting down to the opposite side of the clearing to Harry, coalescing into the shape of a man – or human at least, distinction being impossible given the dark night and what seemed to be a heavy robe.

Harry stared at his assailant, who just stood there, unmoving, watching the young boy gather himself. Eventually, the figure moved, reaching into its robes for its wand. But by the time the wand had been drawn, a weirdly distorted voice crying the infamous words _'Avada Kedavra!'_, Harry had already begun to move, diving to the right while drawing his wand. He threw back the Disarming Jinx, running to the safety of a nearby oak tree while his opponent blocked the spell.

Cowering into the tree, breathing heavily, he heard his opponent start to snigger, quietly, still in the weirdly distorted voice that didn't sound human. The small part of Harry's brain that wasn't focussed on his opponent and survival noted that his opponent clearly wanted to protect their identity, and was using some charm to alter their voice; presumably, if Harry did manage to get a glimpse of their face, it would be altered by potion or spell as well. It was then that the figure called out to him.

"Oh dear Harry! I'd expected much more of a struggle than this! A simple Disarming spell and then you run away and hide? Your parents would be so disappointed… They died well, don't you want to do the same?"

Harry scowled, but didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he looked up, and muttered a spell under his breath. He could hear the man – definitely a man, he was sure of it, even through the distorted voice – walking slowly across the clearing to the tree he was hiding behind. He readied himself, and as the man's arm reached around the tree, he swung the thick branch he had cut from the tree, hitting his opponent heavily in the stomach. As he staggered back, wheezing in pain, Harry leapt out from behind the tree, dropping the branch, raising his wand and crying out _'Flipendo'_. The spell, normally used for target practice, was rather more powerful in his hands than other duellers, a fact his opponent found out to his cost as he was thrown a good five feet backwards, left sprawling on his back.

However, the man was clearly experienced – and, crucially, a good dueller. Even though the impact, so soon after being winded by a thick tree branch must have hurt him, he didn't even pause before rolling to the side to avoid Harry's _'Petrificus Totalus'_ and quickly cast a silent spell at Harry; he dodged it, unsure what effect it might have on a Shield charm. This brief pause had allowed his opponent to get to his feet, and he was wasting no time in pressing his advantage. Spell after spell found their way to Harry, some silent, some vocalized, and of those he could hear, Harry could only recognise a few of them. The barrage of unknown spells made it too risky for him to attempt a Shield charm, so again, he ran, bobbing and weaving through the hail of curses being shot at him, throwing himself behind a pair of large boulders. He looked at one of them, when suddenly an image of Hermione flashed into his mind. Harry grinned.

The mysterious man was now walking towards the boulders, wand still aimed at Harry's hiding place, when he half heard an incantation. He stopped, just as one of the boulders flew up in the air, before being sent flying towards him. He quickly cried _'Reducto!'_, but the resulting shower of smaller rocks still sent him reeling. Harry, who had observed the effect of this last spell with interest, sprinted out from his hiding place, firing off a Blasting spell himself; his inexperience with the spell made it a far weaker effort than his opponent's rather impressive explosion, but the pain of it striking him just above the pelvis was still enough for the man to cry out.

Sensing a duel winning advantage, Harry rushed forward, only to be caught by another silent casting, which left him suspended by the ankle in midair. Snarling his opponent pulled another wand out of his robe, using it to place a bind on the wound Harry had given him. His wound dealt with, he replaced the second wand, before gesturing with his primary wand. Harry was thrown right across the clearing, crashing into the slope with a nasty crack from his left arm and a ferocious jolt of pain. Harry clutched at his arm, almost weeping from the pain, which was backed up by an all too familiar throbbing headache, as the mysterious man strode towards him, wand raised, beginning to cast the Killing Curse for a second time. Again though, Harry was too quick; just managing to cast a Transfiguration spell that turned his opponent's right foot into a needle. As the man collapsed, Killing Curse flying off into the air, striking a tree, causing it to burst into flames, Harry slowly climbed to his feet, aimed his wand at his opponent, who had just managed to counter the basic Transfiguration, and cried out _'Expelliarmus!'_ The man's wand flew away from him, and Harry yelled in triumph, before lowering his wand. Quick as a flash, his opponent drew his secondary wand, moving it in a slashing movement as Harry tried to dodge and cast back at the same time. A line of purple fire flashed across Harry's chest; his eyes widened, before he collapsed to the ground. As he began to pass out, he started to see dark spots before his eyes, and he could just hear, as if from a great distance, someone – something – whispering.

The man stood up. He walked over to Harry, satisfying himself that the boy was, if not dead, then in no state to move around or cause trouble for a while. This done, he walked over to his primary wand, lying several feet away. As he picked it up, he heard a noise behind him. When he turned round, he saw, to his astonishment, Harry standing, watching him, an unfamiliar, almost predatory smile on his face. The man knew that after the last spell he had been hit with, Potter should have been dying slowly from internal injuries. Clearly, the boy was made of far stronger stuff than he had thought. As he watched, the famous scar seemed to split apart, and blood began to pour from it. As it did so, Harry began to chuckle. And to the man, who had seen a lot of weird and unpleasant stuff in his life, this was somehow the worst thing he had seen; a young boy, who ought to be wracked in pain from slowly liquefying internal organs, apparently laughing at the severe bleeding from his forehead.

The man raised his wand, but Harry only smiled contemptuously before flicking his wand in a lightning fast action. He felt his wrist break as it snapped back; he bit back a curse, before grabbing his wand with his other hand. He just managed to do that in time to block a very unpleasant Severing curse, which, if it had connected, would have left him an amputee, and which no eleven year old boy should have heard of, let alone be able to cast. The blood was now pouring out of the scar on Harry's face; in the darkness, it looked black. The man blocked another curse, before casting two spells in quick succession; the first, an easily blocked _'Reducto'_, the second a quiet Summoning charm, aimed at the rocks behind Harry. As the Blasting Curse exploded against Harry's shield, he was struck on the back of the head by a fair sized rock, sending him falling to the ground again.

The man was about to head over to quickly finish the boy off when he heard something bark. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Hagrid and Fang charging through the trees. Cursing loudly, he fired off Killing Curse at the large man, before deforming into smoke once more and flying away through the Forest.

* * *

A/N: Reviews, as always, are incredibly welcome. 


	12. An Investigation

A/N: Yes, that's right, I'm posting again! My computer is getting better, and I actually have a peaceful library to post in, which makes a change. Chapter 12 will be posted next week, somehow, somewhen, and then a chapter a week after that hopefully; I'm two chapters into book 2 as I write, so hopefully I should be able to keep up that schedule for awhile now.

I'm really sorry about the delay, but it's been unavoidable, and shouldn't happen again.

Also, enormous thanks to Hellinbrand for going over the last few chapters!

Enjoy…

* * *

**Chapter 11: An Investigation**

"Have you heard? Potter's in the Hospital Wing! He was in the Forest on Friday night, someone messed him up really badly!"

"They reckon he won't make it!"

"Nah, I heard he was pratting around on a broom, fell off."

"Don't be an idiot, haven't you seen him fly? No, it's in the _Prophet_, attacked by 'unknown assailant', wounded very badly. 'Course, they don't say he's been fatally injured, but he can't have put up that much of a fight, he's only a kid…"

"Said You-Know-Who as he walked over to the cot…"

"Well yeah, fair enough, but he was a baby, he can't have done that consciously can he? And you've seen him, he's not that special."

"He took down a troll, that's pretty special."

"Troll's are roughly as intelligent as this lump of stone; they might be strong but it doesn't take a genius to outwit them. Anyway, no-one actually _said_ he'd done it did they?"

"True… Still, poor kid just can't catch a break can he?"

The news that Harry Potter had been attacked by someone in the Forbidden Forest naturally attracted a great deal of comment around the school, although much of it was more to do with the fact that it had been some_one_, rather than some_thing,_ given the location. Injuries after excursions in the Forest barely caused comment amongst the older students and staff, and duels between students were far from unusual, but someone coming to the school specifically to attack a student was something new. Of course, Harry being who he was, rumours about the attacker's identity and motive were soon flying around the school quicker than a crazed bludger. He was a Death Eater seeking revenge; he was Voldemort reincarnated; he was Voldemort's hitherto unknown son; he was a crazed fan who Harry had upset…

For a few days after the attack, Harry's friends took to hiding in the Library to avoid the barrage of questions that were constantly thrown at them; Fred and George took it upon themselves to 'persuade' people that the flurry of questioning was rude and bad behaviour, and as a consequence, many more people had to go to the Hospital Wing, and so were put in a prime position to spread the rumours by passing on the information that after a week Harry was "Unconscious, just lying there! Couldn't see anything wrong with him, but he didn't move all the time we were in there!"

While the news would undoubtedly have become public knowledge eventually, it was ably helped along by Hagrid. Having rushed Harry to the Hospital Wing, and reported all he knew to Dumbledore, he had spent most of Saturday in the Three Broomsticks, where, very drunk, he had spilled out all he knew about the incident to the other occupants. Someone had passed this onto the _Daily Prophet_, so students were able to read in full about the attack over their breakfast the following day. Hagrid was notable by his absence from the staff table for the next few days, and Dumbledore's look of anger had only just settled into irritation by the time he returned.

Harry's problem, although this had so far remained a secret, was that no-one could figure out precisely what was wrong with him. He had clearly been subjected to some very nasty curses, but they had all been identified and treated; while he would be on health potions for a good few days, he was in no serious danger. In addition to this, he was also clearly in a magical coma, suggesting he had put a serious drain on his magical core. However, there were no spells that could force someone into such a condition, and the spells Harry had used weren't that powerful. Advanced yes; nasty yes; but not that powerful.

Of course, the mysterious barrier of Dark magic had to be taken into consideration, but no-one knew what 'normal' was for that; it was therefore rather tricky to comment on any change while Harry was unconscious. There didn't seem to be anything 'wrong' with it; it was deteriorating quicker than they might have expected, but there was no really noticeable difference from the last examination.

However, after a week or so, as the Easter holiday crawled ever closer with no change from Harry and no new information on the attack, interest began to die down. By the time students began to leave for the holiday, the attack was old news, boring; there was new and exciting gossip, such as the Ravenclaw prefects discovered abusing their privileges in an abandoned classroom; Professor Quirrell's new, rather calmer state of mind; and Snape's latest outrages against anyone in red, yellow or blue.

Old news that is, to everyone but a small group of first years, astonishingly reaching across two notoriously antagonistic Houses, and two third years who could generally be relied upon to take absolutely nothing seriously. Hermione, Neville, Draco, Ron and the twins had stayed at Hogwarts over Easter to keep an eye on Harry, and to be there when – if – he woke up. They were currently dividing their time between the Hospital Wing, the Great Hall for meals, and their respective dorms. They had exhausted the debate about the attacker's identity (after many hours of discussion). Ron had naturally suspected Snape from the start, although as far as anyone knew he actually had very little duelling ability, and in addition, Draco could place him in the Slytherin common room, performing his weekly check-up on his students. After a while, Draco had pointed out that Quirrell had been the one who assigned Harry the detention, and had been asking Hagrid how he would be able to get past Fluffy – the others having filled him in on the story so far. This had stirred Hermione's opinions in that direction, and she had pointed out that he had been a lot calmer since the attack, but the twins could vouch for him; he had been supervising them rewriting an essay, so could not have been anywhere near Harry at the time.

There were no other members of staff who had any possible motive towards hurting Harry as far as they knew, and from what they understood the techniques the attacker had used would be far beyond the abilities of any student at the school. So they were forced to turn their debate outwards: who from outside the school would have a motive to hurt Harry? There were the usual suspects, escaped or un-discovered Death Eaters, Dark sympathisers who had never really declared their views, but they were left with one fundamental question: how would they have known Harry was in the Forest? Harry and Hagrid could have been followed of course, but why wait until they were nearly out of the Forest to spring the attack? Why leave Hagrid unharmed? He was clearly a formidable opponent, and running from him would probably be the most sensible solution, but nobody could stand up to the Killing curse, barring baby Harry of course.

A week into the holidays, the monotony was broken; the Dursley's arrived to see their nephew. They were actually staying in the nearest Muggle town, at the expense of the Board of Governors, since Muggles were unable to see Hogwarts, let alone go inside and wander about. Petunia had tried to force Dumbledore to lower the wards so they could see Harry inside, but he had resisted, pointing out the difficulty of lowering just a certain spell in the vast mix layered over the castle, and the danger that other Muggles would suddenly discover the castle. In the end, they had arranged a compromise: Harry would be taken to a secret location where they could visit him for a time, before returning to the school for continuing care.

Sirius, Remus and Peter had come to the school too. Their reactions to the attack had been mixed to say the least. Remus had been extremely distressed, and spent much of his time in the Hospital Wing, only moving to eat and visit the Dursley's at their hotel. Sirius had put a cheerful face on the matter, pointing out it was "Bloody impressive, Harry putting up such a good fight! James would have been proud of him!" rather than comment on his godson's injuries. Unfortunately for him, he made this comment in Madame Pomfrey's hearing, and she had refused to reverse the subsequent hex she had placed on him. Sirius didn't go into specifics, but he would occasionally double over, his face glowing a bright red.

Peter had been scary. After going to see Harry, he had come out of the Hospital Wing with a strange expression on his face, and a dark look in his eye. Even Ron, not renowned for his emotional intelligence, had been able to tell that if Peter ever got his hands on the person who had done this to Harry, then the Aurors would likely never find a body; certainly not a complete one. He had then taken them all into a classroom and sat them down. He had then politely but forcefully persuaded them to tell him everything that had happened since Harry started school. They had reluctantly confessed their midnight wanderings, how Harry had discovered that something was being guarded – a stone of some description – and that they had been amusing themselves by trying to find out what it was and, latterly, who was actually trying to steal it.

"And your conclusion is?"

The group looked at each other. Hermione was in some confusion. Ron, Neville and Draco had all known Harry for several years, as a consequence of their family's friendship, and they knew that there had been a history between the Marauders and Snape, although they knew even less about it than Harry. As a result, they were reluctant to point the finger at Snape, given what Peter might do to a man he already disliked if he thought that Snape had hurt Harry.

"Please. They won't hear about it from me, I promise you that."

Ron sighed.

"That's not what we're worried about to be honest… We think it might be, well, Snape…"

To their surprise, Peter raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"No… Snape's not a thief. Trust me, he might not be very nice, but his heart's in the right place. Anyone else you can think of?"

This time it was Draco who spoke up. He didn't seem all that afraid of Peter, which was perhaps unsurprising given his relationship with Snape.

"Quirrell was the one who assigned him detention, Hagrid was just supervising it. He'd have known what Harry was doing and where, and he's been acting weird all term."

Peter snorted.

"It may surprise you to learn this Draco, but Quirrell's always been a little weird. Bright, but weird. Anything else you can tell me?"

They all shook their heads.

"All right then. Thank you for your time, and thank you for staying with Harry like this. He's lucky to have friends so loyal."

* * *

The next day, Sirius, Remus and Peter set out into the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid and Fang. Dumbledore had already looked over the site, but they had pointed out they had a couple of advantages he didn't. They walked in silence to the point where the attacker had appeared in a plume of smoke. Remus sniffed the air cautiously.

"I can't smell anything out of the ordinary, but it's a while till the full moon: my senses aren't that much better than average at the moment. Maybe once we get to the exact spot…"

"Let me have a go." And with that, Sirius transformed into Padfoot, raising his wet nose to sniff the air, before shaking his head with a whine.

"Never mind. Which way was it Hagrid?" Still rather morose, Hagrid merely pointed. Sirius set off in the direction he was pointing, apparently overcome by the boundless energy his dog form seemed to give him. Remus and Peter followed more sedately, Hagrid coming along to keep them on the right track. When they got to the clearing Sirius had transformed again, and was muttering spells under his breath.

"It's no use, Harry's still the only one I can smell. Well, actually that's not quite true, but it's weird… I can identify where the attacker was by a kind of, kind of absence of smell, if that makes any sense at all? Harry though, this looks like where he fell after he'd been cursed, certainly smells like it. But… his smell changes here, like something's been added to him. It's like he stopped to put on some aftershave or something, but that's clearly ridiculous."

Remus nodded.

"I can smell it too, though not quite as clearly. We'll know more once he wakes up of course; he'll be able to tell us precisely what happened. Peter, you see anything?"

Peter was just standing there, drinking the scene in, committing it to memory. He was gripping his wand intently. He eventually shook his head.

"No, there's nothing. Come on, let's get back to the castle."

* * *

Harry finally woke up the night before the start of term. It was almost midnight, and the Hospital Wing was deserted, which was unfortunate, as he had a pressing need for the bathroom. He climbed slowly out of bed, nearly collapsing from his weak legs as he did so. He eventually managed to crawl over to the wall, and was able to support himself on it as he stumbled to his destination. His urges attended to, he turned to wash his hands. He looked in the small mirror as he did so, and jumped back in shock.

It wasn't his reflection.

It was largely the same, just the eyes, and the smile. His startling green eyes, red, and cat like in the reflection. The smile, out of place anyway, since he couldn't find much to smile about, but definitely not his smile. It was much colder, more arrogant; almost a smirk.

He sat on the floor, almost hyperventilating, looking at the stranger in the mirror. Then he blinked. When he opened his eyes, the reflection was normal. Green eyes, no smile, and when he tested it, the smile was his smile. He stood up, reached out to touch the mirror. Nothing unusual about it.

"Just a trick of the light… nothing to worry about" he muttered to himself. There was a noise outside, and he grabbed for his wand automatically, before realising that it was still by the bed, with his clothes. A light shone under the door, and Madame Pomfrey appeared in the doorway.

"Mr Potter! What on earth are you doing out of bed? You're very sick young man! Come on, back to bed with you… And how long have you been awake anyway?"

"Not long…" Harry managed to mutter.

"Here you go, you just wait here, and I'll fetch the Headmaster. Your family are here as well you know."

"Wait! How – how long have I been unconscious? Is it the end of term?" Madame Pomfrey's face fell.

"Well… I'm afraid you've been here for just over a month Harry. People will be back for the summer term tomorrow. I'm sorry." Harry stared at her in silence. "Right, well, I – I'll be back in a minute ok? You just relax."

Harry watched her hurry out of the ward, before falling back onto his bed in shock. A _month!_ He vaguely remembered someone attacking him in the Forest, but the details were hazy. If the duel had knocked him unconscious for a month, then he wasn't sure he wanted to know what had happened.

* * *

To Harry's relief, he didn't have to put up with too much in the way of excitement that night. The Dursleys, having spent much of the holiday nearby awaiting developments, had been forced to return to Privet Drive by work and school commitments, and Sirius and Remus had returned with them, acting as bodyguards in case the attack had been part of a broader plan. Of the remaining adults, Peter was the only non-member of staff, and didn't really go in for emotional displays, and his friends had been banned from the ward by Madame Pomfrey to avoid overtiring Harry.

However, Dumbledore's questioning had been intense. The elderly Headmaster seemed to have taken the attack personally, and was most disappointed to learn that Harry's memory of the attack was very vague.

"Are you sure you didn't recognise him Harry?"

"Yes sir, I'm sure. I didn't see his face at all, and he'd distorted his voice; for all I know it wasn't even a man, just a really clever disguise."

The headmaster sighed, and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Very well Harry. There is one last thing though… The spells you used towards the end of the duel. They were rather more… esoteric than your other spells. If I might ask, where did you learn them?"

Harry frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean sir? I just used standard duelling spells, and a bit of transfiguration. Which spells were you thinking of?"

"The rather vicious Severing curse and the bone breaking curse. Not really the kind of spell we expect students to know, Harry. Where did you learn them?"

"I haven't! I've never even heard of a bone breaking curse, and I certainly didn't cast them."

Dumbledore looked intently at Harry, his twinkling eyes drawing Harry's gaze. Then he leaned back, a gentle smile on his face.

"Well then Harry, someone is trying to discredit you; tampering with your wand. Never mind, nobody likely to let _those_ details slip has any knowledge of them."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"What about other details?"

"Unfortunately Harry, Hagrid proved unable to keep the story secret; he informed the customers of the Three Broomsticks, and the whole story was in the _Daily Prophet _a few days later. It was quite the conversation topic."

Dumbledore said with a scowl. Harry sank back onto his pillow, groaning in frustration.

"Quite. However, I am not without a certain level of influence, and there has been nothing further written about the incident, and nor will there be. I realise that may be small comfort to you Harry, but it is the best I can manage for now. Oh, before I take my leave Harry, may I congratulate you? Your experience with the unicorn is one of the few things ever to surprise me. I confess myself puzzled by the whole thing. It is most gratifying. Rest well Harry."

As Dumbledore left the room, Peter leant over the bed.

"I spoke to your friends Harry, they told me all about this stone or whatever it is. Have you any other ideas than Snape and Quirrell? Because I really don't think that they're serious possibilities."

Harry shook his head.

"No, to be honest I hadn't really thought about it for awhile. Not really my problem you know?"

"Fair enough. I haven't told all this to Sirius, for obvious reasons. Best to keep quiet about it ok?"

Harry grinned.

"I'm not an idiot Peter!" Peter gave a rare smile, ruffling Harry's hair before leaving the Hospital Wing.

* * *

A/N: Reviews are, as ever, greatly appreciated. 


	13. To Catch A Thief

A/N: Once again, big thanks to Hellinbrand for going over this chapter. Also, guest appearance of the cliffhanger for the first time. Sorry.

**Chapter 12: To Catch A Thief.,.**

Harry eventually left the Hospital Wing two weeks after the start of term. In addition to the injuries he had sustained during the duel, he was very weak after spending a month just lying in bed. Of course, without magic it would probably have taken him another month to recover the strength to walk around the castle unaided.

Naturally, Harry's reappearance in school life gave the rumours about the attack in the forest a new lease of life; Harry spent much of his free time for the first few days dodging questions from his year mates, housemates, and people he'd never met before. It was really quite annoying. It was even worse around Theodore Nott, who seemed to have taken a personal dislike to Harry, for reasons unexplained. They had barely spoken for most of the year, hadn't really seen each other, but his body language – disgracefully transparent for a Slytherin Pureblood – made it clear that he was never more than a breath away from trying to finish the job Harry's mysterious assailant had started. And when he wasn't restraining himself from cursing Harry, he was passing comment about the 'pathetic showing' from the 'so-called' Boy-Who-Lived, claiming that the boy who defeated Voldemort should have had no trouble with an ordinary attacker.

This was a point that had occurred to Harry as well, although not one that troubled him a great deal. When he could figure out how he had defeated Voldemort, then he would worry about it. He had more important things to worry about. The identity of his attacker was, strangely enough, not the most important thing, as far as he was concerned. Peter had taken their suspicions to Dumbledore – discreetly – and he had assured Peter that the stone was perfectly safe, without of course going so far as to inform Peter what the stone was.

No, Harry was far more concerned about himself. He hadn't mentioned the face he had seen in the mirror to anyone, but he no longer dismissed it as a hallucination. He had seen himself, but clearly a very Dark version of himself. And given what Dumbledore had said about the duel… It sounded as though someone else had been using his wand after he passed out, and using it for very unpleasant curses. One of the few concrete facts about Voldemort was that he had red eyes at the time of his destruction; could he have somehow been corrupted by his parent's murderer? It was an unsettling thought, and the main reason that he hadn't responded to Nott's taunts – he didn't want to risk a repeat of whatever had happened in the Forest.

However, for the time being, there wasn't much he could do about his mental health, or lack of it. He could make sure that he caught up with the work he had missed – roughly two months counting holiday work. He didn't have time for conspiracy theories about which teachers were or weren't planning to steal some stupid stone, or arrogant idiots trying to get a reaction out of him.

Of course, not everyone who came to speak to him was trying to wind him up. While still in the Hospital Wing, he had been visited by Hagrid. The Groundskeeper had been in a terrible state.

"But you wouldn' have been there if I hadn' taken you into that damn Forest! You'd 'ave been safer nearer the castle. That scum wouldn' have dared try anything; no matter how many fancy tricks he's got!"

"Hagrid, don't worry about it! It wasn't your fault, okay? You didn't know someone was going to try and grab me. That unicorn herd was the most amazing thing I've ever seen Hagrid, I'd risk it again for the chance to see it just once more."

The enormous man stopped crying for a moment, mopping his eyes on Harry's sheets.

"Do… Do you really mean that Harry?"

"Of course! I've never even heard of anything like that happening – actually, neither had Dumbledore. Have you seen it happen before?

"Nope. To be honest with you Harry, the males aren' normally too fond of boys; see 'em as a threat, you see. Never seen one get so close voluntarily. Right strange it was. You never did explain what happened when it touched you with its horn. How'd it feel?"

Harry grinned.

"It was great! It was like someone had lit me up inside, like I was on fire – but in a good way, if that makes any sense at all."

Hagrid nodded.

"I reckon I know what you're gettin' at. Good to know you enjoyed it – maybe once they've got the evil little git we can go again eh?"

"I'd like that."

"Great! Oh, there was one more thing weren't there… About the paper Harry… I didn' know there was any reporters there! I just wasn't thinkin'."

"Don't worry about it Hagrid. I guess I'll just have to get used to it."

"Lets hope not eh? Listen, I gotta go now, but I'll bring you up some rock cake, how about that?"

Harry smiled weakly.

"That… would be great. Not too much though, my erm… my stomachs still a little weak."

"Right you are. See you soon Harry!"

Harry waved as Hagrid shuffled out, privately thinking that the rock cake would land him straight back into the Hospital Wing.

But Hagrid was not his only visitor. Professor Quirrell had also been to visit him, stuttering his way through an interrogation. He had appeared just as nervous as he had been the previous term, which seemed odd to Harry, who had heard that he had calmed down somewhat while he had been unconscious.

"Excuse me, sir… But why are we doing this again? I've already told the Headmaster everything I can remember."

Quirrell had smiled.

"I am the D-Defence teacher Potter… It's part of my j-job to p-protect you and other s-students. And I do feel p-partly responsible, I was the one who p-put you in detention after all."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He had been over this with Dumbledore and the Marauders already; he didn't want to go over it again. Nevertheless, he forced himself to be polite, and related the whole story again.

"I'm sorry there isn't more I can tell you Professor."

"Oh d-don't worry P-Potter, everything is useful you know. I'm sure that he'll be c-caught very s-soon. G-get well soon H-Harry."

Quirrell seemed oddly pleased by what Harry had told him.

This had done nothing to alleviate Harry's suspicions about the Defence teacher; in fact, it heightening them. Why was he so concerned about whether Harry had recognised his attacker? Dumbledore was running the investigation, not Quirrell. But of course, by the time Harry left the Hospital Wing, he had more mundane things to worry about, such as the approaching exams. He mentally moved Quirrell to the top of his suspect list, and then promptly put the whole thing to the back of his mind.

* * *

It was a month later, the last day of exams, which had passed in a blur of fear and boredom: each student forced to perform all the obscure bits of magic they had learned throughout the year; made to brew complex potions with Snape breathing down their necks, tutting under his breath; compelled to sweat in the Great Hall, desperately trying to remember which Goblin tribes had been at war with each other in which particular year. Hermione's constant nagging regarding revision had not helped her friends stress levels in the slightest, although Harry supposed there was a slim chance they might have absorbed some useful knowledge via osmosis.

They were in the Great Hall for dinner, having just finished their History of Magic exam – the one subject they had been grateful for Hermione's lectures in, given Professor Binns' appalling teaching. Ron and Neville were trying to persuade Hermione not to analyse the exam in minute detail, something Ron claimed made him feel ill; Harry however was slowly making his way through a shepherd's pie, staring into thin air with a strange expression on his face. Ron noticed this, and nudged him sharply in the arm.

"Come on mate, cheer up! No more revision, nothing at all to worry about for another week! You look like you're about to sit O.W.L.s or something!"

"Sorry… I'm just thinking about this stupid stone. Not as if I've got anything else to think about at the moment!"

Hermione sighed.

"Harry, I thought we'd agreed to let the whole thing drop! You said Dumbledore knows what we think now: let him deal with it. It's too dangerous to get involved with; look at what happened to you – you were unconscious for a month!"

"I know that Hermione! That's why I'm thinking about it – I really, really want to hurt this guy you know?"

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Harry mate, we don't know anything more than we did last term, and Dumbledore's far more likely to get anything done."

"I know that Ron, I just… Never mind. Look, I've got some books I need to take back to the library all right? I'll see you guys later."

Harry walked up the great staircase, brooding over the potential thief in their midst. He knew in his gut that there was more to Quirrell than met the eye, but nobody would ever believe that. A few people called out to him in greeting as he walked through the common room, and he narrowly ducked a Filibuster Firework sent at him by Fred (or was it George?) but they failed to raise anything more than a grunt by way of greeting. As he was getting the books from his trunk, his eye was caught by his father's cloak. It had been a long time since he had taken it for a trip anyway. He looked at it for a moment. Why not? If he was invisible, no-one would see him following Quirrell around, so long as he was careful. He shoved the cloak into his pocket, and headed back down the stairs to the library.

As he handed over his books to Madame Pince, the bird-like librarian, he heard a high pitched voice behind him.

"Is the R-Restricted Section open M-Madame P-Pince? I'm s-still researching that little p-project of mine I'm afraid."

The librarian nodded distractedly, busy with Harry's books. Quirrell smiled down at Harry.

"Shouldn't you b-be outside H-Harry? End of e-exams and all that. How d-do you think you d-did incidentally?"

"Not too bad sir" Harry shrugged. "Well enough I think."

"So m-modest, I'm sure you did brilliantly; only a few more d-days to go b-before you find out! Have a g-good day H-Harry, enjoy yourself – you w-won't have many more o-op-opportunities…"

Harry stared at him, but Quirrell only nodded to Madame Pince before wandering off in the direction of the Restricted Section. Harry hastily finished handing back his books before ducking into a row of books concerning 12th century magical law, a very convenient hiding place. He pulled the silvery cloak out of his pocket, whisking it over his head, before setting off after Quirrell.

Happily for Harry, Quirrell had been detained by a Hufflepuff student, enabling him to catch up with the mysterious teacher. Quirrell strolled over to the imposing gates barring access to the Restricted Section, opening and walking through them. Harry was able to grab the gate, allowing him to slip through before it closed. Quirrell walked straight down the Dark Arts books, heading into the section concerning Ancient Runes. The aisles were unfortunately too narrow for Harry to follow him down, but he saw Quirrell pocket a book, smiling triumphantly, before turning to leave. Harry ducked down another aisle, swiftly following Quirrell through the gates again. As they moved into more populated areas, Harry hung back; he could clearly see where Quirrell was going.

The bustling corridors outside the library presented something of a problem regarding concealment, and in the end he had to duck into an alcove, where he removed the cloak. Stepping out, he just saw Quirrell walk round a corner. Quickening his pace, Harry followed him. Quirrell was now climbing the backstairs towards the third floor, where the Defence Against the Dark Arts office was located. As Harry reached the top of the stairs, he put the cloak back on. He just saw Quirrell walking into the office; thinking quickly, he cast a swift _'Wingardium Leviosa'_ at a suit of armour, cancelling the spell just as quickly. Quirrell dashed out of his office again, stalking down the corridor; Harry slipped into the office quietly. After a moment, Quirrell reappeared, a scowl on his face. He waved his wand at the door, slamming it shut with a decisive thud. Harry crouched down behind a cabinet.

Quirrell went to stand at his desk, holding his wand over a golden basin. A stream of water began to fall from the tip of his wand, landing in the basin. After filling it, Quirrell tapped the side of the bowl twice, before sticking the tip of his wand into the water. After a moment, the water began to glow, pale light shining from it, Quirrell's face lit eerily from beneath. Suddenly, there came a voice that Harry recognised; the heavily distorted voice of his attacker from the Forbidden Forest:

"Well? How goes it?"

Quirrell smiled.

"Very well. I've finally found the counter inscription for the rune ward. I haven't figured out how to rework it, but there's plenty of time for that. I'll go after the stone tonight."

"Excellent! Our Lord will be most pleased. You are sure no-one suspects you?"

"Fairly sure. Snape has been looking at me in a most curious fashion, but that is what he does best, after all. I even had an almost pleasant conversation with Potter just now, and he's the one with the most evidence against me. No, I'll be perfectly safe, and the stone should prove no trouble."

"Splendid. I have a little diversion organised. I can't promise you long, but it should get all the staff out of the castle for you. Use the time wisely."

"Oh I will. This is a momentous day my friend. Within the week the Dark Lord will have returned to his full glory!... What?"

Harry had gasped. Quirrell pulled a knife from his robes, and crept over to the door, pulling it open sharply. There was of course, nothing there. He looked up and down the corridor. The disembodied voice spoke again:

"What's going on Quirrell? Are you still there?"

Quirrell walked back to the desk, pushing the door shut. Harry breathed again.

"Just a rat, there must be dozens of them in a castle like this. You're sure the diversion will be ready for tonight?"

"It isn't complex; I can set it going whenever I like."

"Good. Seven o'clock then. I just need to pick up a few things that I can't really keep around my office."

"Farewell then; the Dark Lord prevails."

"The Dark Lord prevails."

Quirrell jabbed the water again, and the glow vanished. He put the basin away, before unlocking the door and leaving, the door slamming behind him. Harry waited a few moments, before trying the door himself; thankfully, Quirrell hadn't locked it, either too confident or too careless to worry himself such details.

Harry crept away, barely able to think. Quirrell wasn't just greedy, he was evil! Bringing Voldemort back… Who would seriously want to do that? And how? He was dead, Harry himself had killed him – hadn't he? He quickly ran down to the Great Hall, shoving the cloak back into his pocket as he ran. His friends weren't there. Going back out into the entrance hall, he sprinted back up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room. Neville and Ron were sitting by the fire, playing a game of chess. Hermione was reading a thick book of charms theory.

"Guys! I know what's going to happen! It's Quirrell, he's the thief!"

Hermione shut her book, an exasperated look on her face.

"Harry - "

"No, just listen a minute. I saw him talking to someone, I don't know who, but he was definitely talking about stealing the stone! And he's not just a thief – he thinks that it'll bring Voldemort back."

That got their attention. Ron jerked back in shock, sending his chess pieces scattering. Neville stared at him.

"But… But that's impossible! You can't bring the dead back, it's one of the fundamental rules of magic!"

"I'm just telling you what I heard. I don't know what this stone is, but it must be pretty powerful if it really can do that."

"Oh! I can't believe I've been so stupid!"

"Hermione?"

The bushy haired girl was dragging another large book from her bag, and flicking through it frantically.

"I got this out for a little bedtime reading a few weeks ago…"

Ron raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't know you were an insomniac."

"Shut up. Look, here it is: Nicholas Flamel, the only known maker of the Philosophers Stone, the source of the Elixir of Life!"

Neville and Ron looked at each other in confusion.

"The what?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"The Elixir of Life – it makes you immortal! The Stone can also create gold."

Ron whistled appreciatively. But Neville still looked confused.

"But… If You-Know-Who is dead, then what good's it going to do him? He won't be able to drink it, will he?"

They all fell silent. Then Harry shrugged.

"We can work that out later; right now we need to warn Dumbledore."

And he was heading out of the portrait door before any of them could stop him. They caught up with him two floors below, standing in front of Snape, who was looking distinctly unimpressed.

"But it's urgent Professor!"

"Potter, I have neither the time nor the inclination to listen to your inane ramblings, and I assure you that the Headmaster would feel the same. As it happens, he is away from the castle at the moment, but were he here, he would be telling you the same thing. Now I suggest you return to your common room before I lose my temper."

"But Professor - "

"_Now_ Potter! And I don't want to see you until our next so-called lesson, understand me?"

Harry stood there for another moment, before turning on his heel. He strode past the others, who ran to follow him. Hermione grabbed him by the shoulder.

"What happened?"

"Snape told me to get lost, basically; didn't even listen to me. He really is an absolute git sometimes!"

"So, what happens now?" said Neville quietly. Harry stood there thinking – and while he was, a loud voice echoed through the corridors:

"_**All students are to return to common rooms immediately; all staff are to report to the staff room immediately. Repeat: all students to common rooms, all staff to staff room immediately!" **_

Harry scowled.

"Whoever Quirrell was talking to said something about a diversion he'd organised; this must be it. He's going after the stone now!"

"Well we'll be bound to run into McGonagall if we head to the staffroom now won't we?" Hermione practically shouted.

Harry nodded slowly.

"Have you all got your wands with you?"

They shook their heads in confusion.

"Fine, you go and get McGonagall or someone; I'm heading after Quirrell."

"Harry that's crazy! He's working for You-Know-Who, you won't have a chance!"

"He killed my parents, Ron. He tried to kill me. I'm not just going to sit around while Quirrell brings him back! I'll see you soon."

He started to walk off, but Neville stopped him.

"If you're going, then I'm going. Whatever this diversion is it must be convincing, and they'll be more worried about that. If you really want to go after Quirrell we'll come as well."

Ron and Hermione nodded.

"What else are friends for, mate?"

Harry grinned to himself.

"Quirrell hasn't got a hope."

* * *

The four friends carefully made their way through the dark, deserted halls to the forbidden, third floor corridor, just about managing to conceal themselves in the folds of Harry's cloak. Arriving at the entrance to the corridor, Hermione reached out to the door. It swung open gently at her touch. They looked at each other uneasily; they had hoped to arrive before Quirrell and prevent him getting past Fluffy – the noise of a battle, one-sided or not, as well as a Cerberus raising hell would surely alert the other staff to the situation. They couldn't hear anything from within the corridor. Neville turned to Harry.

"What now? I'm not in a hurry to see that thing again you know…"

"Then you can stay here. I'm going after him though. If Voldemort really is still alive then I'm not going to sit around while he makes himself immortal! Go and get someone if you want, I'll see you later."

And with that, Harry stepped out from under the cloak, and walked through the door. Ron, Neville and Hermione followed a second later.

Harry was staring at Fluffy; it was the first time he had seen him. Fluffy was huge, truly enormous. Each of the heads could comfortably have fitted two of the children at a time into their individual mouths. The paws would crush them if they were caught underneath them: all in all, a far from appealing prospect. On the other hand, the giant dog was asleep. A harp had been enchanted to play constantly, and was standing in a nearby corner, keeping Fluffy quiet. The trapdoor was open, further proof that Quirrell had already been through.

Hermione made a step towards the trapdoor. There was a flash as a hidden spell activated, and the harp burst into flames. At the same time, Fluffy's snoring abruptly stopped. As the horrified children spun round, the dog began to wake up…

* * *

A/N: As always, reviews are greatly appreciated! 


	14. Through The Trapdoor

A/N: Title and riddle taken directly from the relevant chapter in _Philosophers Stone_. And there's another cliffhanger. Sorry.

**Chapter 13: Through the Trapdoor**

As Fluffy reared up from his slumber, Neville dragged Hermione back to the door. Ron and Harry swiftly followed, only to find it sealed shut. Hermione whipped her wand out to utter the Unlocking charm – only to find that she couldn't speak. She had been robbed of her voice. The others quickly discovered the same; they could not voice the incantations for spells. Fluffy was now straining at the chains keeping him in place. As he frantically tried to grab them, he smashed the trapdoor. Shattered planks scattered everywhere.

Harry dived forward, grabbing one of the larger fragments, waving it like a sword. As Fluffy tried to grab him, he jabbed the enormous dog in the paw, causing it to jump back in pain. Harry motioned to the others to drop through the trapdoor. Ron leapt to his aid, grabbing another plank to keep Fluffy at bay. Hermione and Neville swiftly ran and jumped down into the darkness below them; Ron followed, helped on his way by the edge of Fluffy's paw catching him as he jumped. Harry prepared to follow, but was knocked back by a blow from a forepaw; shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, he was greeted with the sight of the middle head looming over him, drool dripping down onto his robes. Suddenly, flashes of light started to illuminate the room, coming from below the trapdoor. Fluffy roared in pain, still inaudible, and stumbled away. Harry stood up and ran, diving into the hole just as another spell came through.

Fortunately, he landed on something soft. This slightly compensated for the sharp pain in his cheek. Also, judging by the sound of Ron's creative description of Fluffy and Hagrid, they were no longer prevented from speaking.

"Are you guys alright?"

"I'm fine, Harry… just. I'm gonna _kill _Hagrid. What kind of maniac would even _want _something like that, let alone call it _Fluffy_?! He's insane: he's got to be… Sorry about that Stinging hex, by the way, mate: didn't mean to hit you."

"Neville? Hermione? You alright?"

There was no answer. Harry raised his wand, casting _'Lumos'_.

"Oh crap…"

The other two were suspended several feet off the floor, wrapped in thick vines from some kind of plant. Harry vaguely recognised it from Neville's private collection at home. Several more were snaking towards Harry and Ron. They both jumped to avoid being caught in the same manner. Looking round in the light from his wand, Harry could several trees in a ring around the plant. The trees looked familiar as well. On the other side of the clearing, Ron stepped back to avoid being snared in a vine, and the tree nearest him stirred. There was a sharp crack, and one of the branches him Ron in the back. He was sent flying towards the towering plant in the middle of the room. As if it could sense him, more vines came streaming towards him. They quickly grabbed him, binding his wand arm behind his back.

Harry raised his wand again, casting the Blasting curse he had learnt from the Forest attacker. This dealt with the nearest vines; he then charged away from the trees. Another _'Reducto'_ aimed at the vine holding Ron, and he was now held less tightly. Pleased with the effect the spell had had on the plant, Harry prepared to cast it again.

"Harry, wait! It's a Devil's Snare!"

"Oh well, that's nice, I can die happy now, Nev: just tell me how to kill the bloody thing!"

"Light and fire: it hates them!"

Harry spun away from several more vines, stepping back to get a decent shot at the main body of the plant. His _'Incendio'_ certainly seemed to hurt the plant, but it was too damp for the fire to spread, and it only shook slightly. Cursing under his breath, Harry shifted his aim to the vines holding his friends. This time, he called on a spell he had found in _Quidditch Through The Ages_, used to illuminate evening games:

"_Solaris!_"

The effect was dramatic. The Devil's Snare seemed to spasm in pain, dropping its three captives to the floor. Hermione managed to land still clutching her wand, and joined Harry in casting flame charms at the plant; Neville and Ron took care of the vines streaming towards them. Very soon the whole plant was ablaze, and they stopped their frantic casting to watch, a mournful look on Neville's face. Suddenly Hermione looked round them:

"How are we supposed to get past those trees? You saw what they did to Ron."

Harry nodded.

"They're baby Whomping Willows, aren't they Nev?"

"That's right – can't wait to see what the other obstacles are. Anyway, there's a spot on them that should freeze it if you can find it. But they're still plants, and not quite as mobile as the Devil's Snare. We should be able to get close enough to them to just salt the earth around them. Combine that with a quick Speed charm and they'll just die."

"Yeah well, I'm not getting anywhere near those things again let me tell you! I've been smacked around by plants enough for tonight let me tell you!"

Ron sat down, still staring at the flaming plant, while the others moved towards one edge of the circle. They cast a simple household charm to conjure some salt, covering the ground around three of the violent trees, before standing back to cast _'Accelerando'_ at the necessary area. The trees began to shudder, the leaves rapidly turning brown and dropping from the branches as they died. Within a few minutes, there was a path through the edge of the circle, and they walked through to the door, leaving the smouldering ruins of the Devil's Snare behind them.

As they walked down the corridor between the rooms, Neville noticed Hermione counting on her fingers and muttering under her breath.

"What's up?"

"I'm just trying to work it out. We've had Hagrid and Professor Sprout. If each teacher did one then we've got loads to go and I don't have the first clue about things like Arithmancy or Ancient Runes!"

"I know a few Runes; most Purebloods do, but what could you do with Arithmancy that would work as a trap? You can ward with Runes but Arithmancy's just theory of magic isn't it?"

"I don't know, Neville: that was my whole point. And before we worry about the stuff we don't know anything about, we've still got McGonagall's, Flitwick's, Snape's, Quirrell's… We've been lucky so far but really, we haven't got a chance!"

Harry turned round.

"You could at least try and be optimistic, Hermione! You and I are pretty good at Transfiguration, Flitwick's shouldn't be too bad, and the others… well, just don't rule anything out, that's all I'm saying."

As he finished speaking, they came out of the passageway into another wide room. At first it seemed empty. A loud rustle caused them to look up at the ceiling. There were dozens of little sparkly things slowly flying around, unidentifiable from the ground. On the other side of the room was a doorway.

"I bet this is Flitwick's" said Harry. "Those must be charmed to attack you. Stay here, I'll try and open the door."

And before the others could grab him, he had begun to sprint across the floor. He reached the doorway with his arms over his head, and spun round, sure he would see whatever the shining objects were flying towards him. All he saw was Ron sniggering, and Hermione and Neville suppressing smiles.

"Oh yeah Harry, those are really dangerous mate!" Ron called out between sniggers. Harry blushed.

"Well, sorry for trying to protect you, I'll know better next time. Get on over here."

The others strolled across the room, while he tried to open the door. It was shut fast, and _'Alohamora'_ seemed to have no effect. They all tried pushing it, but it was to no avail. Finally, Ron spotted the broomstick lying in a corner.

"What's that here for? Hang on… what if those things are keys?"

Hermione looked up at them doubtfully.

"They could be… But they wouldn't leave a broomstick lying around to retrieve them would they? They don't want anyone getting in, that's the whole point."

"Yeah, but Quirrell knows what's here doesn't he? He'd have brought it with him."

"True, but then he might have cursed it somehow. We are dealing with a Dark wizard here, Ron."

Harry walked over to the broom, examining it carefully. Finding nothing obvious, he shrugged, and climbed on. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. He started to hover; still nothing unusual. He moved the broom up, climbing towards the hovering objects, and he was close enough now to see that they were keys. He swooped back down to his friends.

"They're keys alright. Lord knows how you work out which is the right one though."

"The lock looks like iron, quite old. See if there are any keys like that." said Hermione.

Harry nodded at her, before flying back up again. There were hundreds of keys. He approached the cloud cautiously, wary of any defensive measures. Nothing happened, leading him to conclude that they were harmless; the sole defence must be the sheer complexity of managing to get hold of the right key. What thief carried a broomstick as standard equipment after all?

He hovered there, keeping a sharp eye out for an older looking key. Suddenly he saw a glimpse of a darker key amongst the shimmering gold, on the far side of the cloud. He flew towards it, circling round the cloud, always keeping it in side. Just as it came within reach however, it flew off at an incredible speed, zooming right past him – followed by the other keys. Harry was nearly knocked off the broom by the number of keys cutting into him, and he felt several draw blood. Recovering, he flew off in pursuit, the door key leading the cloud a merry dance around the pillars and arches in the vaulted room. Harry took up position at the side of the cloud, hoping to avoid being cut again, but after a few turns where they swung into him anyway, he decided the best course would just be to dive in. He flattened himself against the broom, and put on a burst of speed, flying straight through the cloud, towards the key. The pain from the constant cutting was excruciating, but Harry managed to get through to grab the key.

It blew up in his hand.

Quirrell had obviously rigged it against potential pursuers, and although it was only a small explosion, it was enough to knock Harry off the broom. Fortunately, it had come at a point where he had been flying close to the ground, and he escaped with only a few bruises to add to his already impressive collection. The key was totally destroyed however, and his left hand had been cut to shreds.

The others ran over to him as he struggled to kneel, bent over his hand in pain. He could feel one of his headaches coming on. It was agony, far worse than normal, somehow, as if something was trying to break out of his skull. He could feel his magic bubbling up inside him, and he raised his wand arm, crying out as he did so. The others dived aside as a bright burst of magic erupted from his fingertips, striking the doorway with a bang. As the smoke cleared, it became obvious that all that was left of the door was the makings of a decent bonfire. Harry looked up. Hermione and Neville were staggering to their feet, but Ron was flat out on the floor. He stumbled over to him in a panic, gasping in pain. Ron was only breathing lightly, as if it hurt him to do so. There was a tear in his robes over his chest, which reeked of strong magic. The uncontrolled magical flare had clipped him. The three friends knelt over him as Harry checked for further injuries. Suddenly Ron groaned.

"Merlin… That really, ah, really hurt, mate!"

Harry sighed in relief.

"I'm so sorry Ron, it was an accident - "

"I know, I know… A little more warning would be good next time Harry."

"I'll do my best, but that one was a little… sudden."

Hermione shook her head in exasperation.

"Never mind that, we've got to get you back, Ron! You can't carry on like this, and we can't just leave you here!"

"Oh yes you can! Look, you can't get me past Fluffy like this, can you? That's assuming we can even get back up through the trapdoor, and we don't even know how to get out of there if we can. We can't let Quirrell bring You-Know-Who back either. There's nothing around to hurt me, I'll be fine." The other three looked at each other, before standing up.

"We'll be right back Ron, I swear."

"Will you just get on with it, hero? Go on, clear off. I'll be fine." He lay back, wincing, as the others set off through the exploded door. As they passed through, Hermione paused to examine the scorch marks left on the frame and wall.

"You know Harry, this really is incredible. I'd love to learn how you do it."

Harry and Neville looked at each other in mild frustration.

"Time and a place, Hermione? Things to do, Dark wizards to try and stop, that kinda thing? Come on!"

"Alright, I'm just saying…"

They walked on through the next chamber easily. The door was hanging open. It looked as if a complicated rune warding sequence had been broken. Clearly, Quirrell didn't have the skill to reset it with a trap built in, as he had with the keys. However, the next room seemed to have been designed to work only once. It was a giant chess board, with half the pieces destroyed. Winning the game was apparently the only way across the room, and it seemed Quirrell played a decent game of chess: the majority of the white pieces had been destroyed, while the black pieces – those nearest the entrance – were largely untouched. There were only two pieces moving, apparently at random. These were the black knights, armed with two lethal looking swords apiece.

Hermione took a cautious step forward. The knights spun round to face her, swords raised to guard position. She took a step back, and they advanced. For some reason, whoever had sculpted them had seen fit to give them smiles; it didn't make them any more pleasant to look at. Neville hurriedly fired off an attempt at the blasting curse, only to duck as it was sent back at him with a twitch of one of the blades. Hermione hurried back to them as one of the knights leapt forward, its blade slamming into the floor with a dull thud. She looked at Harry.

"What are we supposed to do now?"

"What are you asking me for? You're the brains! What am I supposed to do?"

"You're the Boy-Who-Lived! Do whatever it was you did to that door just now!"

"I can't just call that up on demand you know, that's why they call it 'accidental'…"

Harry followed this with another blasting curse, again beaten right back at them by the knights. The three friends ran; they were at least quicker than the chess pieces.

"Neville, you're the best here, how do you defeat knights in chess?"

"By manoeuvring your pieces into the right position, but we don't have any other pieces!"

"Harry wait! Each of the obstacles so far has had its own rules: you can get past them if you figure them out: we need to use the pieces, right?" Harry and Neville paused to look at her. "Well, maybe if we use some of the weapons…" And she pointed at a fallen bishop, it's stave a short distance from the body.

Harry sighed.

"Hermione, that thing's bigger than I am; how are we supposed to lift it?"

"Are you a wizard or not? Levitation!"

Neville grinned in appreciation, and raised his wand. Given the size of the weapon, it took a combined effort to lift it, but they eventually raised it into the air as one of the knights appeared around the white queen. It scuttled towards them as they aimed the makeshift spear, before they threw it towards the chess piece with a flick of their wands. The knight raised its swords, but the stave smashed straight through them to the head behind, crushing it completely. The knight shuddered, before toppling to the floor.

The three friends ran towards the stave to levitate it again. However, as they struggled to turn it round, they became aware of a creaking behind them. They were knocked flat as the remaining knight charged into them, although they managed to avoid the twin swords. They sprang to their feet as the knight slowed down, teaming up to raise the stave into the air. By the time it was heading back towards them, swords now raised, one in a high guard, one across its chest, they had levelled it out, ready to strike. As the knight picked up speed, they sent the stave flying towards it. The knight swerved to one side, but the stave still struck it, smashing one of its arms off. However, it also brought down its other sword, destroying the stave. It started to charge again, aiming for Harry as the other two scattered. Harry desperately threw all the damaging spells he knew at the knight, but they all bounced straight back, necessitating some fancy footwork to avoid his own spells. He finally turned and ran, ducking behind some more debris from the chess match that had gone before.

The knight followed him. No matter which way he turned, no matter how many destroyed chess pieces he hid behind, the giant knight followed him, as if it could smell him. Finally, it corned him by a pillar. Harry pressed his back into the stone, as if trying to dig through with his shoulder blades. The knight raised its remaining sword high above its head, before bringing it down swiftly. Harry braced himself for the impact…

And nothing happened. Harry opened his eyes cautiously. The knight's sword was just above his head, a mere hair away from splitting him open. The tip of the sword that it had dropped earlier was just visible through its chest. He sank to the floor in relief as Neville and Hermione ran over to him.

"I'm never doing anything like this again… Never."

Hermione laughed in relief.

"Sure you aren't… Neville? Neville what's wrong?"

Neville had staggered backwards, and slumped to the floor. He was very pale.

"Think that I… used too much magic… Need to rest. Sorry guys…" Neville's eyes closed; he was soon snoring deeply.

Hermione turned to Harry.

"I didn't levitate that sword, it was just him; I should have helped him!"

Harry grabbed her shoulders firmly.

"Hermione, don't worry about it! He'll be fine, I was wasn't I?"

"You were unconscious for three days!"

"That's because I've got a screwed up magical core, Neville's is fine!"

Hermione stared into his eyes.

"You're sure?"

"Positive. Come on, we must be nearly there by now…"

Harry stood up. Hermione remained on her knees, taking her outer robe off, before folding it up and putting it under Neville's head as a pillow. As they walked through the door on the other side of the chamber, a vile smell hit them. In one corner of the room was the body of a troll. Its head was in the opposite corner. Hermione covered her eyes in shock.

"At least we didn't have to fight that one…" Harry muttered to her. There was a small door on the other side of the room, much smaller than the ones they had passed through previously.

The door swung open as they approached. The room on the other side was much smaller than the others that they had been through. Inside there was only a table with several bottles on it. Harry grabbed Hermione's arm.

"Wait here…"

He walked into the room. As he approached the table, flames sprung up at both doorways, and he heard Hermione shriek in shock as she leapt back to avoid being burnt. There was a piece of paper with the bottles, with a poem written on it:

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind, _

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find, _

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side; _

_Second, different are those that stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onwards neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant hold death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

Harry ran his hands through his hair. What on earth was all that supposed to mean? He looked at the bottles again – and then looked closer. There were only five bottles on the table. He turned round, and spotted some tiny glass shards on the floor. Quirrell had been through, drunk the potion that would get him through one side, and taken the potion for his return with him. Harry was stuck! He ran back to the door he had come in through, standing back from the intense heat.

"Hermione! Listen, I'm stuck in here, there should be some potions, but Quirrell's taken them. Go back to Neville and Ron, and go and get some help. He must have to come back through here, I'll try and hold him up."

"I can't just leave you here!"

"Well you can't help me here, can you? Go and get someone, Flitwick for preference, he's a former duelling champion. Hurry!"

"Harry I… Fine. I'll be back as soon as I can. You're a great wizard you know that? There aren't many people who'd risk their lives like this: you're a real hero, Harry!"

"Oh don't be ridiculous, you're much better at magic than me!"

"I'm not talking about grades and you know it Harry… Good luck."

Harry listened to Hermione's footsteps die away, before turning back to the black fire guarding the door Quirrell would have gone through. His head was beginning to pound again. He took a deep breath… and jumped through.

* * *

A/N: Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated.


	15. The Philosopher's Stone

**Chapter 14: The Philosopher's Stone**

Harry had expected the fire to hurt. But it was far worse than he had imagined – for a second. Then, still in the heart of the fire, he felt his magical core twitch again, and everything went white. Then he was rolling onto a stone floor on the other side of the flames, still in pain, but apparently not too badly injured. He lay there, gasping in pain, when he heard the sound of slow applause. He raised his head shakily, but everything was a blur; his glasses had come off. As he groped around for them, someone spoke:

"Oh bravo, bravo! I was wondering if you would show up Potter, I must say, you've done very well to get past all those challenges. Maybe you _are_ as special as they say… How did you manage it may I ask?"

Harry found his glasses, putting them back on before looking up. Quirrell was standing there, arms folded, a sardonic smile on his face.

"Well?"

"With… With a little help from friends…"

"Ah, of course: that typical Gryffindor sentimentality. How nauseating. And where are they now? Or have they fallen prey to some of the more dangerous challenges back there?"

Harry glared at him.

"They've gone to get the other staff; they'll be here any minute."

Quirrell raised an eyebrow.

"I highly doubt that. Not that it matters. You've fairly effectively blocked us in for the moment, and once I've retrieved the Stone then they won't be able to stop me. Elixir of Life you know, wonderful stuff…"

Harry spun round at these words. Where the black flames had been there was now only a solid wall of ice. He walked towards it, stretching out to touch it. It was so cold it burned. He turned back to Quirrell.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything Potter, it's all your own work. Now if you don't mind, I am rather busy, so do be quiet."

Harry drew his wand in a fury, but Quirrell waved his own in a dismissive gesture. Harry was hurled several feet across the room.

"Potter, you are eleven years old, and I am a rather powerful Dark wizard. In addition, you are tired and badly injured: you don't have a hope of beating me. Now lie there and be quiet and I may let you live."

He aimed his wand again, and a stream of rope came out, wrapping itself around Harry.

Quirrell turned away, walking back to a large mirror in the middle of the room: the Mirror of Erised, Harry realised with a jolt. Quirrell walked round it several times, tapping it with his wand, muttering to himself. After a minute, he stepped back, and muttered an incantation. A bolt of light came from his wand, striking the Mirror in the middle of the glass.

Nothing happened.

Quirrell let out a cry of frustration, walking straight up to the Mirror again.

"I can't even see anything in this damn thing! What's the old fool done to it…?"

Harry had been watching this with a rising sense of hope: Quirrell didn't know how to get the stone from the Mirror! If he could just distract him a little more, then Hermione might really get back with help in time. With this in mind, he called out to Quirrell:

"So this is Dumbledore's contribution?"

Quirrell looked over his shoulder, an unpleasant look on his face.

"That's right, curse him. He didn't do anything about it for months, and then he springs this little gem! It's a surprisingly dark guardian for him, though. Do you know about the Mirror, Potter? It feeds off your mind, body and soul, leaving nothing behind. Not the kind of thing you'd associate with Albus Dumbledore at all, but it's apparently been in his family for generations! And as if it wasn't bad enough already, he's _changed _it. I should be able to see myself getting the Stone, but it's just showing me blood. Blood… I wonder: maybe you just have to pay a price?"

He started moving his wand in different, more complex patterns. Small balls of light appeared and started to orbit the Mirror, floating round it before flying back to Quirrell and, seemingly, into his body. More and more started to appear, before Harry suddenly called out again:

"Why do you want Voldemort back?"

Quirrell stiffened, losing concentration, and the globes disappeared. He turned to Harry, growling, and walked over to him.

"Because he will grant me everything I desire, and he will restore the Wizarding World to greatness! Even you can't be that stupid Potter: look at us! We're reduced to cowering in terror from people who only worked out how to communicate instantly less than a hundred years ago! They're nothing compared to us, so… insignificant. But the Ministry would have us hide like mice, when every true wizard or witch knows in their heart we should be ruling over them! The Dark Lord - "

"Don't you mean Voldemort?"

"Do not speak his name! You are not worthy you insolent little brat!"

Harry smiled.

"What's the matter Quirrell? Scared of Vol – "

"_Crucio!"_

Harry screamed in agony, every nerve ending being twisted, a thousand knives digging into him, flames licking at his skin… And then it stopped. Quirrell stood over him, a mad expression on his face.

"The Dark Lord will be most pleased when I bring you to him along with the key to immortality Potter. I would not count on a swift death!"

He walked back to the Mirror, conjuring more glowing globes, which again began to circle the Mirror. Suddenly he began to stroke the Mirror, still muttering to himself. Harry lay there, doing his best to ignore the excruciating pain wracking his body.

"What – What made – What made you try and kill me that night?"

"Hmm? What was that?"

"Why – why try and kill me then?"

Quirrell laughed.

"Oh, that wasn't me dear boy, no, that was my… shall we say 'business associate'? We've been working together very closely. I have a suspicion he would just love to see you, Harry."

"You mean… that was Vol –" Quirrell raised his wand again. "I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"No no, just a colleague. But one who would love to meet you. I'd tell you, but he'd want to see the expression on your face."

"How did You-Know-Who survive?"

"That is not for you to know Potter, and for those of us he deems worthy to associate with to keep a secret. Ah-ha!" He stepped back from the Mirror, a triumphant grin on his face.

"I was right! A blood price! You know, Potter, say what you like about Dumbledore, but he really is very clever sometimes. No-one can change the nature of the Mirror of Erised, and believe me, hundreds have tried! So he hasn't changed it, just… manipulated it a bit. I'd say it was genius, but it won't work. You see, Potter, the Mirror has a basic desire, if I can use the word, for humanity. That's how it works, it uses the soul of those who go mad staring into it, and the body of those that walk into it, to power the magic behind it. So all Dumbledore had to do was manipulate it into demanding a price for its contents – and Dumbledore can be very persuasive when he wants to be. So it's perfectly simple; a blood ritual: a body's worth of blood for the Philosopher's Stone. It is rather brilliant in its own way, because no-one would kill themselves to get hold of something. However, since I have a guest…"

Quirrell began to smile. Harry stared at him, first in confusion, then in shock, as the Dark wizard pulled a knife from his robe. He gestured with his wand, and Harry was hauled upright, before being dragged forwards, towards the Mirror. He jerked to a halt just in front of it, and Quirrell Vanished the ropes. Harry moved for his wand, but Quirrell waved his wand again, and Harry's arms were suddenly fixed to the Mirror, which began to ripple at his touch.

Quirrell stepped forward, knife raised. He moved it to just below Harry's wrists.

"Any last words Potter?"

Harry moved his mouth soundlessly, too stunned to speak. Quirrell shrugged, before slashing the knife along Harry's wrist.

* * *

Deep in the Forbidden Forest, the staff were frantically searching for the source of the outpouring of Dark magic that had triggered the wards. It was reminiscent of the war against Voldemort at its height, and none of them were eager to face such a threat again. Professors McGonagall and Snape were searching together, when Snape suddenly stopped. 

"This is pointless Minerva. We'd have felt it again by now if there was really something there."

"Oh, and I suppose you can explain why someone would go to all this trouble just to get us out…"

They stared at each other.

"The Philosopher's Stone! Oh Merlin…"

They both turned back towards the castle, Snape sending up the sparks to signal a return. Hagrid was guarding the doors to the castle, and he stared in confusion as they raced past him. Snape suddenly stopped.

"Hagrid, come on – we need you to pacify Fluffy!"

Hagrid stared at him, before shrugging and following. Ten minutes later, the two Professors were standing looking at the burnt out Devil's Snare. Snape cursed under his breath.

"Do you think they'll have been and gone yet, Minerva?"

"Let's hope not, Severus. Merlin only knows who it could be!"

They walked on through the dark corridors, arriving in the key room at the same time as Neville and Hermione.

"Longbottom! Granger! What are you doing down here?"

"It's Professor Quirrell sir, he's trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone! Harry's still in there, he was trapped in the room with the Potions."

Snape swore, running off in the direction Neville and Hermione had come from. McGonagall stayed with the students, casting a charm on Ron to levitate him, Hermione still babbling the story to her. She hurriedly led them away from the underground obstacle course.

Meanwhile Snape was casting the complex spells to breakdown the bewitched flames, mulling over all he had seen. The exit to the key room had clearly been blown apart somehow, in a staggering display of power. And the chess pieces had been decimated: Quirrell was clearly more powerful than he seemed. Or could it have been Potter? As the flames died down, he hurried down the steps, only to freeze in shock: there was a solid wall of ice in front of him. He cast a particularly vicious version of a Blasting curse at it, but it had little effect. He followed that with a powerful burning curse, but again, by the time he cancelled the magic little had been achieved. He resigned himself to a lengthy wait.

* * *

Harry screamed as Quirrell cut his wrist open. Blood began to spurt out, sinking into the Mirror. Quirrell began to laugh, but the Mirror suddenly shuddered. Quirrell backed away, dropping Harry to the floor, who swiftly tore a strip from his robes, tying it over the cut. Then he looked at the Mirror. Cracks were appearing all over the glass, and the Mirror was shaking violently. 

It exploded.

Shards of glass went flying out from the Mirror. Harry froze, unable to move, and was hit by several of them. Two hit him straight in the face, one of them in the middle of his head, right over the lightning bolt scar left there by Voldemort.

Quirrell watched in shock as the boy in front of him fell over, glass sticking out of him in several places. Weirdly, he wasn't bleeding. Suddenly, the fragments of glass began to melt, glowing as they did so. As Quirrell looked on in astonishment, the glass flowed into Harry's body, leaving him apparently unmarked. Harry's eyes fluttered open, and he stared at Quirrell dumbly. For the first time, Quirrell felt a flicker of fear. He had been intrigued when the black flames had turned to ice as the boy came through them, but this was something else entirely.

"Potter, I have no idea what you're doing, but if nothing else, you will die tonight!"

Harry raised his wand in a feeble attempt to defend himself, but Quirrell disarmed him with a single wave of his wand. Harry backed away, falling over again, and Quirrell moved further forwards, towering over him. He bent over, grabbing Harry by his robes, and raised his wand over his head. In desperation, Harry tried to shove him away, hitting Quirrell in the face.

Quirrell screamed, dropping Harry and his wand. As Quirrell staggered back, Harry looked up at him; a hand print had been burnt across his face. Quirrell looked up, snarling, and ran forward, pulling the knife from his robe again. Harry ducked a wild swipe, before grabbing Quirrell's neck. He could actually see his hands glowing now; there was a horrible smell, and he could see smoke coiling out from under his hands. But he held on with all his might, not knowing what was happening but fully conscious that he had no other chance of survival.

Quirrell was flailing madly under Harry's painful grip, beating him in the chest. A sudden blow to Harry's stomach drove the wind from him, and he fell back, wheezing. Quirrell stood up, sobbing with pain. His neck had been burnt black, and Harry felt slightly sick knowing that he had done that to someone. The glow from his hands intensified, becoming whiter, almost painfully bright. Quirrell stumbled over to his wand, but Harry, now crying himself from the knowledge of what he must do, tripped him up, placing his hands on him, one on his head, and one over his heart. Quirrell screamed even louder as Harry's unrestrained magic poured into his body, burning it up from the inside. Quirrell began to smoke, his flesh drying out, cracking, as more and more magic seeped from Harry's fingertips into his body.

There was a loud _crack_ as the ice covering the door finally shattered under Snape's spells; the Potions Master burst into the chamber just in time to see the Boy-Who-Lived jump away from Quirrell, as the Defence teacher burst into flames. Snape swiftly conjured a stream of water to quench the flames, but he was too late; as the flames died down, all that was left of Quirrell were some tattered robes, and a large amount of ash. Snape looked at the remnants of his colleague in horror. Harry was crouched a short distance away, vomiting.

Snape shook his head, unable to believe what he was seeing, and turned to Harry, crouching next to him. The boy was muttering to himself, and Snape reached out, touching him on the shoulder. Harry looked up at him, a vacant expression on his face.

"I didn't… I didn't mean – "

"I know that Potter. It's – it's ok…"

_This is ridiculous! _Snape thought to himself; _Comforting James Potter's son? _He tentatively patted Harry on the back.

"Come on, let's get you back, that's it…"

He helped Harry to his feet, wincing at the inadequacy of his comments. As Harry stood up, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed again.

* * *

An hour later, and Harry was sleeping peacefully in the Hospital Wing. Ron was also there, heavily bandaged, and rather grumpy over his "imprisonment". Hermione and Neville had been sent back to the Gryffindor dormitories, as neither had any injuries. McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore were in the Headmaster's office, discussing the events of the evening. 

"It was definitely Quirrell, I recognised the robes, and he's the only member of staff unaccounted for. I suppose the idea of immortality and unimaginable wealth proved too much of a temptation." said Snape

Dumbledore nodded wearily.

"Such a shame… He was a most gifted individual in his own little way."

Snape shrugged, a miniscule twitch of the corner of his mouth revealing his true feelings on that subject.

"And why on earth were Harry and his friends there? Do they not trust the staff?" Dumbledore went on.

Snape winced.

"I fear that may be my fault, Headmaster. I saw Potter not long before the explosion of Dark magic in the Forest; he was babbling about something. I assume he was trying to warn me about Quirrell, but I didn't listen to him at the time."

Snape seemed to cower under the intensity of Dumbledore's gaze, but McGonagall intervened.

"Leave him alone, Albus. I would have done the same in his position; I'd think we were mad for believing it now if I hadn't seen it myself…"

Dumbledore sighed and nodded.

"I suppose so, but I'd still recommend never letting Sirius find out that little detail, Severus! Now, you said you were worried about Harry?"

"I saw him burn Quirrell up from the inside out [just using raw magic, Albus; I don't think he could control it, but that's little comfort: the boy shouldn't be in school! He needs one to one tuition, where he won't be a danger to so many people. You know what he did to Weasley. Just imagine if that had happened unexpectedly during a meal: he could have injured dozens of people!"

"I disagree, Severus. Harry's magic may be uncontrolled, but it is predictable: the level of the magic seems to be in direct proportion to his levels of stress. I cannot imagine him facing an equal level of stress during a meal as during a duel with a Dark wizard, can you?"

"And what if he gets worse, not better? What then, Albus?"

"There is no evidence to suggest he will get worse: indeed, he has already shown some improvement over the year but yes, if he does get worse I will re-evaluate the situation."

Snape and McGonagall considered this possibility in silence, before nodding their agreement.

"And what of the Philosopher's Stone, Albus?"

"Destroyed with the Mirror of Erised, Minerva. No-one will have access to the Elixir of Life again, I'm afraid. Fortunately Nicholas and Perenelle never intended to live forever, and were already talking about… moving on, shall we say. Nevertheless, I'm sure the destruction of his greatest achievement will hit Nicholas very hard indeed. I shall talk to Harry in the morning, and see if he can shed anymore light on proceedings. For now though, I think sleep would do us all good."

However, Dumbledore sat up long into the night, pondering the strange qualities of the Boy-Who-Lived.

* * *

Harry woke up the next morning, looked around him, realised where he was, and groaned. It seemed like he had spent more time in the Hospital Wing over the year than anywhere else! He fumbled for his glasses on the bedside table, and lay back, trying to remember how he had got there. Then it hit him: he had killed, no, _destroyed_ Quirrell. He grabbed a bed pan, vomiting again. 

"Oh dear Harry. I had rather hoped you would be fully recovered this morning; you didn't appear to have any serious injuries."

Harry looked up to see Dumbledore smiling down at him.

"Quite the little adventure you had last night my boy, wouldn't you say?"

Harry stared at him for a moment.

"Sir, I killed him!"

"And how do you feel about that?"

"Well… Well awful, obviously…"

"Why? You would not, I assume, take issue with the fact that he was trying to kill you? Would you feel awful had you killed your attacker last term, or is it merely the manner in which Quirrell died?"

Harry looked down.

"I guess – I guess it's more the way he died. I mean, he thought he was going to bring Voldemort back after all, so why I should feel sorry for him…"

"What?"

Harry looked up, startled at the passion in Dumbledore's voice. The old wizard's eyes were blazing furiously.

"I heard him talking to someone, about how the Stone would restore Voldemort. I mean, that's clearly insane, Voldemort's dead… isn't he?"

Dumbledore looked – guilty? What did he have to feel guilty about? Harry opened his mouth to ask, but the look of guilt passed from the Headmaster's face so swiftly he could almost have imagined it.

"There is some speculation about that Harry, but he is certainly defeated. There is a crucial difference, remember that."

Harry nodded slowly. Dumbledore was clearly hiding something, but it was equally obvious that he wouldn't find out what anytime soon.

"I still burnt him alive, sir. That's a horrible way for anyone to go."

"True… Yet not entirely your fault. The explanation lies in evening of Voldemort's defeat: your mother sacrificed her life for yours, Harry. That is ancient, powerful magic, more powerful than any curse or potion. It certainly contributed to your defeat of Voldemort and I believe it still lingers within you. That is what caused the… reaction you had to Quirrell."

Harry frowned.

"But I could feel my magic…"

Dumbledore nodded.

"The power had to come from somewhere, Harry. Quirrell's death was a tragic accident, but undoubtedly kinder than the punishment the Ministry would have given him. Voldemort's supporters have not been treated kindly in recent years. Mourn Quirrell if you feel you must but take heart in it as well. If he really was in league with Voldemort, then you have done the world yet another great service in preventing his return!"

Harry nodded slowly, a small smile making its way onto his face. His mother protecting and helping him from beyond the grave? That was definitely something to be pleased about! Dumbledore stood up to leave, but Harry had one more question for him.

"Why did the Mirror explode sir?"

A sad, not to mention guilty, look passed across Dumbledore's face.

"Are you aware of why Quirrell wanted your blood Harry?"

"Yes sir; he said you'd changed the Mirror so that it wanted blood in exchange for the stone."

"That is correct – but I suspect he did not discover that the payment had to be voluntary. As he was forcing your blood from you, the magic of the ritual rejected the offering. That rejection, combined with the undeniable power of your blood, resulted in the destruction of the Mirror. I am not proud of my choice Harry, but I genuinely believed that it would be the perfect guard for the Stone. I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive me for the injuries it caused you."

The Headmaster had never looked so old as he did now, gazing almost pleadingly at Harry. Harry just shrugged.

"I wouldn't have been hurt if I hadn't been stupid enough to get involved like that, or if Quirrell had been a little more thorough."

Dumbledore smiled.

"Maybe Harry, but it is people getting involved in such a fashion that makes the world what it is today. Never forget that. Now, I'm sure Madame Pomfrey would have a great deal to say about me keeping you up like this. Get some well deserved rest, Harry! I have no doubt we shall talk again soon."

And with that the Headmaster left Harry alone.

* * *

Harry was allowed to leave the Hospital Wing only a day later, the shortest time he had spent in there over his several visits. Despite the brevity of his visit though, he had received numerous visits from well-wishers, all congratulating him on his victory over Quirrell. It seemed, according to Hermione, that it was only the general gist of what had happened, rather than the precise details, that had become widely known, something for which Harry was profoundly grateful. 

Dumbledore had made a speech at dinner after leaving Harry, informing them all of the Defence teacher's unfortunate demise in a misguided attempt to steal the Philosopher's Stone, omitting the fact that Harry had actually burned him alive. He had also handed out a very generous amount of house points, although not quite enough to take the House cup from Slytherin. Ron had been rather vocal about this, but Harry knew that Dumbledore was merely trying to avoid accusations of favouritism: they had, after all, been utterly destroying the rules as opposed to merely breaking them.

Hermione, Neville and Ron had all been fascinated and, Harry suspected, slightly disturbed by the story of what had actually happened between him and Quirrell. Hermione and Ron having filled Ron in on events up to the Potions test. They all agreed he had been lucky to escape in such good condition as he had. Despite everything, all their injuries had been cured within seconds, or after a short period of bed rest. Somewhat ironically, Ron had been injured most severely, something for which Harry was most apologetic.

Soon though, it was time for the journey back to King's Cross. It passed most enjoyably, with much lively debate about Quidditch, Quirrell's replacement for the next year, the likelihood of Snape being sacked (small, in conclusion), at many games of exploding snap. Shortly before their arrival at the station, Harry happened to look at the door of their carriage: Zacharias Smith was standing there, a faint smile on his lips. He nodded at Harry, before walking away. Harry quickly opened the door, but there was no sign of him, and Harry had a feeling that he would not find him in any nearby carriages either. Shaking his head, he ducked back into the carriage, where Hermione and the others were having an argument.

"Harry, what do _you_ think the chances of us having a normal year next year are?"

"As normal as it ever gets at Hogwarts sure; I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

* * *

_**End of Book 1**_

A/N: And there we have it. Book one of the 'Second War' series is complete. If you've enjoyed this story (and I hope you all have) the sequel, _**The Sneaking Serpent Walks**_ will begin posting next Monday. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you will stick with the series.

Once again, reviews are greatly appreciated.


End file.
